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danganronpa-21 · 1 year

Text

General Warnings: Minor reference to violence against women, no explicit content or situations

Fandoms: Danganronpa

Relationships: Kirigiri Kyoko/Naegi Makoto

Additional Tags: Slowburn, Friends to Lovers, The crushes are very much implied, There Was Only One Bed, Minor Canon Divergence

Word Count: 2,057 words

Summary: Where would Kyoko stay if she hadn't had the skeleton key that night?

“I… I don’t have anywhere to sleep.”

He… should have seen this coming. After all, he knew the rules just as well as anyone. No students were permitted to sleep outside of their dormitories, as it would be seen as sleeping in class, and be punished accordingly. Without her Student Handbook, Kyoko wouldn’t be able to get into her room. Without being able to get into her room, she would have nowhere to sleep. Unless…

He's never really had a girl in his bed before. Okay, that’s a lie – he’s never had a girl that wasn’t Komaru in his bed before. Though he tried to insist that he could cozy up on the floor or something, she would hear none of it. She knew quite well that she was putting him out by asking to sleep in his room. It would be even more of a burden to have to give up his bed. No, she insisted that they could try to share the bed. No offers to sleep on the floor herself, just instantly from bed alone to bed together. If it weren’t for the way she averted her eyes when she asked, he might’ve wondered if she had some sort of ulterior motive… In the end, though, it’s just as well. Honestly, sharing the bed is the conclusion he might have thought up anyway.

Still, he can’t deny the sweatiness of his palms as he sits on the edge of the bed, listening to Kyoko brush her teeth. Though she hadn’t been able to get anything from her room, the school store managed to cover at least some of what she needed. Personal grooming supplies had all been handled. The only thing she didn’t quite get was pyjamas, and even then, she’d managed to squeak by fairly well with the tank top underneath her shirt and a pair of borrowed sweatpants. That’s another thing that’s weird about the situation: Kyoko’s wearing his clothes. Again, apart from Komaru, he’s never really had a girl wearing his clothes before. It’s certainly not as strange to think about as sharing a bed with her, but with the level of closeness they are achieving today, it sort of feels like she’s his girlfriend. He’s never had one of those before. Is this what it’s like?

No, no. He shakes his head to rid himself of the thought. It will not do for him to think about Kyoko like that, especially when she’s come to him in her time of need. What kind of guy would he be if he just assumed that she wanted to be with him because she was there? Pretty as she is, Makoto knows for sure that she’s out of his league, and that he wouldn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize the cautious friendship they’ve formed. As far as he knows, Kyoko’s kind of… socially skittish. She doesn’t exactly give off an overwhelming aura of nervousness, but she doesn’t trust easily. He has to treat this situation with her as what it is: her placing her trust in him.

This is the last thought that lingers on his mind as he wipes his hands on his pants, turning his head back to take a glimpse at her. She’s bent over the sink, spitting out her toothpaste, hair pulled back with one hand. He can’t help but notice that even with the removal of so many other things, she neglected to remove her gloves. A longing to ask prods at him, but he’s quick to push it away. Again, this is a situation of trust he’s in with her, the last thing he wants to do is jeopardize it.

“Naegi-kun, are you just sitting there staring at my backside?”

Oh, shit.

The sharpness of Kyoko’s disapproval is quick to snap him out of his mind. Apologies spill from his lips as the tips of his ears burn a hot red. “I w-wasn’t trying to stare at you so much I was staring through you,” he sputters stupidly, “I d-d-didn’t mean to be rude; I was j-just thinking!”

Plunking her toothbrush into the cup beside the sink, Kyoko spins around to look at Makoto, one eyebrow quirked. Somehow, he feels like her eyes are boring into him. Truth be told, though he thinks Kyoko’s eyes are stunningly beautiful, he wonders if she knows how intense they feel when they rest upon you without words. The way the irises flicker back a little as she takes in the details of his face only make him feel even more scrutinized. Thankfully, the longer her gaze rests on her, the more a hint of amusement seems to break tease her mouth. Though faint, he catches a small twitch of her usual smirk there.

“I thought it seemed unusual for you.”

“B-Believe me, it is,” he mumbles. “After all, it would be pretty awful of me to let you stay in my room and then start treating you like a piece of meat. I don’t want you to worry about that kind of thing while you’re here.”

Her expression softens as a smile breaks free, eyes flitting down to the floor for the moment almost as if she is touched by his respectfulness. The fact that girls even have to worry about things like this makes his heart ache.

“I appreciate that, Naegi-kun… and I appreciate you taking me in when I asked. At times like these, I know it is difficult to trust anyone – myself most of all. Any other time, I might have questioned your line of thinking, but… tonight, I’m just grateful for your hospitality.”

Makoto shrugs, doing his best to muster up his own gentle smile. “Well, we are friends, aren’t we? Friends help each other.”

Kyoko hums and nods thoughtfully. Her eyes are on him, but it seems as if her mind is somewhere else. Where she is, he does not know, but he’d like to find out… if only to make sure that she’s still feeling safe and secure. The last few days have been extraordinarily difficult on her. Not that she’s said anything about it, but he can only assume how tough being treated like an outlaw must be.

“Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable, Kirigiri-san?”

Her gaze lingers on the floor for a moment, and when it flickers back to his face, he can see that her teeth are bearing down on her lip. Blush dusts her nose and cheeks. Makoto’s heart beats faster at the sight. Whatever embarrasses her has good potential to embarrass him, too.

“I… don’t know if this is an unusual request, or if I’m being paranoid, but…” she sighs. “Could I investigate the room quickly? Just to ensure that there are no weapons here. You are welcome to check everything I came with as well.”

All of his anxiety melts away at her words. She wants to investigate the room to make sure she is safe. She’s embarrassed, yet it’s the most reasonable request she could have made in her position. Honestly, he’s glad that she’s giving him the opportunity to search himself. As much as he likes and trusts her, he is not ignorant to the danger he is putting himself in by welcoming her into his room. Sayaka taught him well how minacious such a situation can become through her desperation. He couldn’t save her life, but at least he could thank her for her sacrifice by not dying stupidly… Something Kyoko reminded him of regularly, when he let his temper get the better of him with Monokuma.

“Of course, Kirigiri-san. In fact, thanks for asking. It would make me feel a lot more comfortable, too.”

Kyoko’s arms fold across her chest as she heaves a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I apologize for having to ask. We can go to bed right after.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He assures her with a smile. “Even if we trust each other, it’s best to do what’s safest.”

She nods, and unless he is being deceived, that shade of rose turns to her face.

__________________________________________

It’s hard to know what to do as he lays there, stiff as a board.

The two of them have only been in bed together for a meager twenty minutes now, but it feels like an eternity. The bed really is meant for just the one person, so the two of them are basically on top of each other, crammed into that small space. Makoto can’t even find a way to shift into a comfortable sleeping position. He’s just laying there on his back, hands resting on his stomach like he’s a corpse. Ugh. That thought almost makes him shiver. The last thing he needs right about now is to be thinking about something like that. Even if he’s fairly confident that Kyoko won’t be murdering him tonight, those thoughts just won’t do. He can’t help but wonder if she’s having them too, as she lays there next to him.

Her positioning is honestly just more of the same. She’s relaxed herself neatly next to him, keeping to her own space – apart from her hair, of course. That slowly but surely has come to spread out like a halo around her as she readjusts. It’s like a waterfall of silver that all just pools around her head as she rests. It’s… angelic, almost. With her eyelids closed ever so softly, she looks like the picture of serenity. Part of him wants to sit there and drink her in, but he knows that that would probably creep her out. There’s no weird, fetishy desire to understand her, of course. More of a curiosity, really, to watch her in this state of calm. It reminds him more of how he would feel if he saw a particularly captivating woman in a painting, each detail of her body detailed in careful brushstrokes. He just wants to appreciate every inch of something so often unseen to him.

“Naegi-kun?”

He nearly jumps as the sound of her voice snaps him from his thoughts. It almost sends a shiver through him, like ice water being poured down his back. All of his focus goes onto her eyes as fast as he can manage, watching as she peels them open. Thankfully, even in the darkness, he can see that she does not appear particularly disturbed. She probably doesn’t even know that he was just admiring her.

“Y-Yeah?”

“Are you uncomfortable?”

Yes. Wait, no. Actually… sort of? But he doesn’t really want to tell her that. She’s already in a vulnerable position with him as it is, and he doesn’t want to make it weirder by admitting that it is weird. Wiping his sweaty palms on his pants, he offers her little more than a shrug.

“It’s um… it’s not bad. It’s just… different, I guess. I’m still getting used to having you here. I don’t want to invade your space or anything. We’re friends, but I don’t think you want to get too cozy with me.”

He punctuates that last statement with a nervous chuckle, as if it is a joke. It’s not, but he would prefer she not take it as something so serious. Just a little awkwardness is nothing to sneeze at, right?

To his surprise, however, he feels the bed move ever so slightly as she shrugs her own shoulders. “I wouldn’t mind. I have forced my way into your bed, after all. So long as you can appropriately keep your hands to yourself, I don’t see why you shouldn’t be allowed to be comfortable in your own bed.”

Makoto’s heart skips a beat as he lifts himself onto his elbows in shock. Though in the darkness he knows it is hard to see, he fears that she’ll notice the sudden heat spreading across his face. “W-What?!”

Kyoko lets out a small laugh, shaking her head. “You are such an open book, Naegi-kun, you know that, right?”

He exhales frustratedly, slamming his head back down on the pillow. Of course it was just a joke. When it comes to Kyoko, he should really know better by now. Shutting his eyes, he decides that maybe he will just go back to sleep… Something that Kyoko thwarts when she murmurs, in the softest and sweetest of voices:

“I was only half-joking, you know.”

#danganronpa #naegiri #kyoko kirigiri #makoto naegi #naegi makoto #kirigiri kyoko #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #kirigiri kyouko #kyouko kirigiri #naegiri week #naegiri2022

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kokoch4n3l · 2 months

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DEAD GIRL'S BEACH࿐ྂ KUROKAWA IZANA x f!oc x SANO MANJIRO

TEN — i don’t smoke

"while therapy may offer some insight into his psyche, it's doubtful that Mr.Kurokawa's fundamental nature would be altered. despite what studies say, some individuals are simply predisposed to nefarious behaviour." —MAYA'S ROUGH NOTES ON K.I

chapter summary: Kakucho forces Maya to face the reality of her situation and Izana reveals some not so nice things

warnings: DARK CONTENT 18+, unreliable narrator!Maya, vomiting, drug use/misuse, withdrawal symptoms, possibly inaccurate depiction of at-home withdrawal care/survival, first-degree burns, depictions of injuries and burns, blood and gore, hickeys, bite marks, kissing, thoughts of self-harm, emotional manipulation, slight infantilization, betrayal, dehumanization, depiction of corpses, mention of suicide, MAJOR noncon(not detailed), noncon to dubcon, allusions to sex, unprotected sex, forced orgasm, coercion, implied creampie, memory loss, dissociation, past torture, past waterboarding

word count: 7534

masterlist | previous | chapter 11

She's thrown up for the 3rd time today. Kakucho holds her hair back and holds his breath. He knows if he gets a whiff of it he'll be throwing up right next to her. He makes Maya brush her teeth then instead of lighting a candle he uses those febreeze small spaces air freshener thing and sets it up in the bathroom instead. Kakucho would rather not take care of any more wax-related burns. "come on, drink" He mutters to Maya, kneeling in front of her on the bed, holding a bottle of pocari sweat to her lips

He has to hold the bottle for her. Maya's hand keeps shaking from the pain and the sudden cold and hot flushes are making things hard for her. But, at least she isn't hallucinating which is a good thing. Else Kakucho remembers when Izana— no, he'd rather not think about that right now. "Just a little more" He coaxes gently as Maya tries pushing the bottle away "You've been sweating and throwing up so much, you need it"

She continues to drink again and he sighs in relief, holding up the bottle for her. One of Maya's hands shakily comes up and holds his wrist. Her skin is hot to the touch. He should probably put a cold cloth on her forehead but that wouldn't be a good idea with the random cold flushes. Or Maybe he could. Kakucho isn't sure. He isn't the doctor, Maya is. "there we go, good girl" Kakucho murmurs, screwing the cap of the bottle back on and then putting it on the bedside table

Maya looks like she's out of it. No, she definitely is. Her eyes are closed and her breathing is shallow. She was wearing shorts and one of Mikey's silk pyjama shirts as it was the only material that wasn't irritating her back that was filled with first-degree burns from the hot wax Izana poured on her back yesterday night. Kakucho sighs and brushes Maya's bangs away from her eyes. "Turn around, let me see your back"

Maya turns around in a lazy fashion and Kakucho can't help but sigh once again seeing she wasn't unbuttoning her shirt. He reaches around her and starts unbuttoning her shirt. Maya winces when his chest brushes against her back "Sorry, sweetheart, sorry" Kakucho murmurs, the petname slips out without knowing

He unbuttons her shirt all the way then pulls it off the rounds of her shoulders and moves back to see the burns. She's sitting crossed-legged and kind of hunched over, Kakucho can clearly see all the places Izana had poured the wax. Starting from the base of her neck and trailing all the way down her spine to the small of her back are red irritated trails. There are small red dots on the backs of her ribs and more trails on her ribs. It's only first-degree burns but they obviously hurt. "rate your pain" Kakucho asks

"0 out of 10" Maya mumbles

He raises his brow. He can't see what face she's making right now so it's hard to tell what she means. "huh?"

"do not recommend"

Oh my god. How could she be like this right now? "You're insufferable" Kakucho mutters, pulling out a tube of burn cream

Gently squeezing a dollop of cream onto his fingertips, Kakucho applies it to Maya's burns with tender care, his touch light and soothing. Maya winces occasionally, but she doesn't protest, allowing him to tend to her injuries without complaint. Kakucho decides to ignore the hickeys on her lower back and the teeth marks on her shoulder in favour of saving her and himself from embarrassment and an unwanted conversation. As he works, he can't help but notice the subtle tremors running through Maya's body, a sign of the withdrawal symptoms she's battling alongside her physical injuries. "How are you feeling?" Kakucho asks softly, his voice filled with genuine concern as he continues to apply the cream

He knows that the pain from the burns is just one aspect of her suffering, with the withdrawal symptoms adding an additional layer of torment to her ordeal. Maya's response is a weak murmur, her words barely audible as she struggles to articulate her thoughts amidst the haze of discomfort and pain. With a sigh, Kakucho continues to apply the cream, his movements gentle and deliberate as he works to alleviate Maya's pain as much as possible. Gently guiding Maya, Kakucho helps her shift onto her stomach, ensuring that she's positioned comfortably on the bed. He fluffs up the pillows beneath her chest, providing extra support to ease the strain on her back. "Here, let's get you settled," Kakucho murmurs, his voice a soothing presence amidst the turmoil of Maya's pain and discomfort

She isn't wearing a bra and if this weren't a completely different situation, Maya probably would have been really uncomfortable but right now, it didn't matter. Kakucho fully removes the silk shirt from her arms and hangs it on the edge of the headboard. "comfortable?" he asks

Maya nods weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you, Kakucho," she murmurs, her gratitude evident in her eyes as she gazes up at him.

Kakucho offers her a gentle smile, his heart swelling with a mixture of tenderness and concern for her well-being. He brushes a stray strand of hair away from her face, his touch light and reassuring. Kakucho gently runs his fingers through Maya's hair, his touch tender and comforting as he watches over her. "Does anything else hurt, Maya?" he asks softly, his voice infused with genuine concern

Maya shifts slightly, her movements slow and deliberate as she tries to find a comfortable position. "My legs... they're sore," she murmurs, her words slurred with exhaustion and discomfort

Kakucho gets off the floor and sits on the bed by her feet and starts massaging her legs. As Kakucho's fingers glide along Maya's legs, he applies just the right amount of pressure, his touch firm yet gentle. With each knead and stroke, he focuses on releasing the tension that has built up in her muscles, working methodically from her ankles upward. He can't shake the guilt gnawing at him, knowing that she's endured so much pain and suffering.He wants to apologize to her, to beg for her forgiveness, but the words stick in his throat like bitter bile. How could he face her after what he's done, after the role he played in her torment? He wishes he hadn't intervened, wishes he hadn't pleaded with Izana to spare her life. Maybe then she wouldn't be lying here, broken and battered, her spirit all but crushed beneath the weight of her pain.

Maya didn't deserve any of this. She was an innocent caught in the crossfire of their twisted world, a pawn in a game she never asked to play. And yet, here she is, paying the price for his mistakes.

Death would have been a merciful release compared to the agony she's enduring now. But Kakucho knows he can't undo the past, can't erase the scars that mar her body and soul. All he can do is offer what little comfort he can, hoping against hope that it's enough to ease her suffering, if only for a fleeting moment.

As Kakucho's skilled hands glide along Maya's tired limbs, he focuses intently on the task at hand. With practiced precision, he applies just the right amount of pressure, his fingers kneading away the knots of tension that have accumulated in her muscles. Her skin is soft against his calloused hands. Each stroke is deliberate, each movement purposeful, as he works to ease the discomfort that plagues her. With each pass, he can feel the tightness gradually give way, the knots unravelling beneath his touch. He pays close attention to Maya's reactions, adjusting his technique accordingly to ensure her comfort. As he works his way up from her ankles, he can't help but marvel at the resilience of the human body, the way it responds to the healing power of touch. Despite the weight of guilt that hangs heavy on his shoulders, Kakucho finds solace in the simple act of offering Maya some measure of relief. He knows that he can't undo the pain she's endured, but in this moment, he's determined to do everything in his power to ease her suffering. "this okay?" Kakucho asks her

"hm..." Maya hums sleepily

This isn't his first rodeo with withdrawal. He hoped with Izana it would be the last but he really didn't expect to be taking care of Izana's hostage after that whole shitshow. Kakucho eyes drift upwards to her thighs. Her legs are slightly spread and on her inner thighs, he can see hickeys. Kakucho feels like he's 15 again, flushing at the sight of girls with hickeys on their necks stumbling out the Haitanis and Izana's rooms, picking up Mikey from some random girl's house, looking away from Shion who's got a girl in his lap— don't get Kakucho wrong, he's slept with girls before. A bunch actually just... Pretty girls like Maya made him weak.

That and the fact that she looked like and acted a little like—

Kakucho doesn't want to think about that right now. "Hey, what are you doing?"

He goes stiff and looks at the door where Mikey is standing with his arms crossed over his chest. There is this obsessive look in his eyes and it makes Kakucho sick. Kakucho's heart skips a beat as he's caught off guard by Mikey's sudden appearance. He quickly pulls his hands away from Maya's legs, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up his neck. "I, uh... Just trying to help her relax," he stammers, his voice betraying his unease.

No doubt the entire thing looked scandalous. Maya's laying on her front with no shirt on and Kakucho is massaging her legs. Okay, maybe it wasn't that scandalous but still. It was embarrassing to be caught by Mikey like this. Maya's voice, barely above a whisper, cuts through the tension-filled air. "Mikey..." she murmurs, her eyes fluttering open as she reaches out towards him

Kakucho's hands freeze in mid-air as Maya's soft voice pulls him out of his thoughts. He watches silently as Mikey's expression softens at the sound of her voice, a flicker of concern crossing his features. Mikey walks over and kneels next to her on the floor, running his fingers through her hair. Kakucho takes that as his queue to leave and slides off the bed. Mikey kisses her forehead. There is a slight anger he feels as he watches Maya let Mikey touch and caress her like he is her lover.

But it wasn't because he was jealous.

It was out of disappointment.

"what's all this stuff for anyway?" Mikey asks as Maya uses a dropper from a tiny glass bottle to apply some kind of solution to his face

They're the bathroom. The mirror is fogged with steam from the shower. Mikey has a towel wrapped around his hips and Maya has one wrapped around her chest beneath her arms, their hair damp, sticking to their necks. She's sitting on the counter and Mikey is standing between her knees, hands on her bare thighs as he gazes into her eyes with an emotion that looks like love. "hydration" Maya tells him, using the tips of her fingers to rub in water solution she put on his face into his skin "we've got the same skin type so my products work for you too"

Mikey simply hums at her answer and lets his eyes fall shut as she works the product into his skin. When he opens his eyes, he's got a soft smile playing on his lips. MIkey admires her for a while as she works the same product into her own skin, using delicate motions and pressure. "You're beautiful..." He says quietly, thumbs rubbing circles into her bare thighs

Maya's cheeks burn with a rosy hue as Mikey's words catch her off guard. She averts her gaze, feeling suddenly bashful under his admiring stare. "Oh, uh, thank you," she mumbles, her voice soft and barely audible.

Mikey's smile softens at her reaction, his thumb continuing its gentle caress on her thigh. He tilts his head slightly, studying her with affectionate eyes. "You don't have to be shy, Maya," he reassures her, his voice warm and reassuring. "I mean every word I say."

Maya's heart flutters at his sincerity, a warmth spreading through her chest. She steals a glance at him, her lips curling into a shy smile. "you're pretty" Mikey says again, pressing a light peck to her lips

"I'm pretty?" She repeats

"The prettiest"

For some reason, being called pretty felt a lot nicer than beautiful. It was a weird way to think but, Maya liked it. Although Mikey did call her both, pretty and beautiful, so she was happy. "now what other little skincare thing you have left to do?" He asks, looking at her as if she was something precious

Looking at Maya like she was the only thing in the world looking at, looking at her like— like how Maya wished Chifuyu would look at her. For a moment she's snapped back to reality. She was in a beach house in the middle of nowhere, being drugged and tortured, with a bunch of gangsters that had Japan under their boot and now she had just showered with said gang's leader.

How fucking great.

Mikey seems to notice her change in mood and he frowns. "Hey, baby. You 'kay?"

Maya just nods. Her heart beats fast, her mouth suddenly feels dry and her head is hurting again. As Mikey's question hangs in the air, Maya's mind whirls with a flurry of conflicting emotions. She forces a smile, attempting to mask the turmoil brewing within her, but her facade feels paper-thin against the weight of her thoughts. "Yeah, I'm okay..." she replies, her voice sounding unconvincing even to her own ears.

Mikey's concerned gaze lingers on her, his brows furrowing with worry. "You sure?" he asks softly, his thumb gently tracing circles on the back of her hand.

Despite the tenderness in his touch, Maya can't shake the feeling of unease settling in the pit of her stomach. She inhales deeply, attempting to quell the rising tide of anxiety threatening to overwhelm her. "Yeah, just... a bit tired, I guess" she mumbles, her words feeling hollow even as they leave her lips "my head hurts"

Mikey's expression softens, a flicker of understanding crossing his features. "Alright, let's get you to bed then" he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm against her frayed nerves

They dry their hair and get dressed and Mikey leads her to bed. She's stiff as she lays there in his arms. Mikey is rubbing her back probably thinking her unease was because of the withdrawal. The burns on her back healed fairly quickly with constant care and now all that was left was the migraines she got from the withdrawal. She didn't feel like dying but swallowing a bullet seemed much more appealing at times. But the withdrawal wasn't the problem here, it was the fact that Mikey had made her completely forget she was being held against her will. The fact that she had been too caught up making love with Japan's most ruthless gangster, she forgot where she was.

Mikey's gentle ministrations soothe the tension in her muscles, but beneath the surface, Maya's mind churns with a maelstrom of conflicting emotions. She knows she should feel grateful for his care, for the semblance of normalcy he brings to her tumultuous existence. Yet, with each tender touch, a wave of guilt washes over her, threatening to drown her in its suffocating embrace. "Mikey" She whispers, looking up at him

They're both lying on their sides, her head on his bicep. "Hm?" he asks, brushing a finger away from her forehead

Maya's gaze meets Mikey's, finding a warmth that envelops her like a soft blanket on a cold night. His eyes, pools of understanding and compassion, seem to hold her entire world within their depths. But no, she couldn't melt again. "C-could..." She pauses, not sure how to word her question

"It's fine, tell me" Mikey encourages

So Maya takes a deep breath and asks "can you tell Izana to let me go?"

Mikey's expression shifts, a flicker of uncertainty dancing across his features before being masked by a carefully crafted facade. Maya senses the tension in the air, a palpable silence that hangs between them like a heavy curtain. "I..." Mikey begins, his voice trailing off as he searches for the right words.

He hesitates, his gaze flickering away from Maya's for a moment before returning, filled with a mixture of concern and conflict. "Maya, you know it's not that simple," he finally responds, his tone gentle yet tinged with a hint of resignation. "Izana... he's not someone you can just ask favours from."

Maya's heart sinks at his words, a wave of disappointment crashing over her like a relentless tide. She had hoped, perhaps naively, that Mikey would be able to intervene on her behalf, to offer her a glimmer of freedom amidst the suffocating confines of her captivity. But now, faced with the harsh reality of their situation, she feels a sense of despair wash over her, threatening to drown her in its depths. "But... But you're the leader are you not?" Maya whispers quietly, a dejected look on her face "You're the leader of Tokyo Manji Gang, not... him"

Mikey nods and presses a kiss to her forehead. "Yes I am the leader but Izana is my older brother... And because he is older, he tends to abuse that. I am leader but my brother is older"

Maya's heart sinks further at his words, a heavy sense of disillusionment settling over her like a suffocating blanket. She had clung to a sliver of hope, however naive, that Mikey's leadership might offer her some semblance of protection from Izana's grasp. But as the truth unravels before her, she realizes the bitter reality of their familial dynamics, the hierarchy that reigns even within the Tokyo Manji Gang. The weight of Mikey's confession hangs in the air, casting a shadow over their already dire circumstances. Maya struggles to process the implications of his revelation, grappling with the cruel irony of their situation. The leader of the gang is unable to protect her from his own brother's tyranny. As Mikey's lips brush against her forehead in a tender gesture, Maya's heart aches with a profound sense of loss. The fleeting comfort of his touch offers little solace in the face of the insurmountable odds stacked against them. "I'm sorry, Maya," Mikey whispers, his voice tinged with remorse. "I wish I could change things, but... but I'm bound by more than just my position."

"oh..." Is all Maya is able to say

In response, Mikey simply wraps his arms around her, holding her tight against his chest. His embrace is a silent comfort, offering solace in the midst of her despair. There are no words spoken, but the warmth of his embrace speaks volumes, reassuring Maya that she is not alone in her struggle. "for now let's focus on helping you get better" He murmurs gently "Most of the withdrawal symptoms are gone, you look like a lot better too... Just having headaches yeah?"

Maya nods weakly against Mikey's chest, grateful for his understanding and support. "Yeah, just headaches" she admits, her voice barely above a whisper.

The throbbing ache in her head feels like a relentless drumbeat, a constant reminder of the turmoil she's endured. Mikey brushes a gentle hand through her hair, his touch soothing against her skin. "We'll figure it out" he assures her softly, his words a balm to her battered soul.

She buries her face into his chest again, trying to blink back her tears. It had been 4 or 5 days since that whole thing with Izana. Her back was healed and she was recovering pretty quickly from the withdrawals. So she should have been here for about 2 and a half weeks? Right? Maya isn't too sure but that's what she thinks. She shifts her head and looks at the double doors in front of the bed. The sun is shining, it's a nice day out. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore is faint but soothing. Maybe it was the view that really made her feel better. Had she been locked in some shitty hospital like Izana was, even she would take 2 months to recover. "hey" Mikey tells her

She looks up at him with eyes filled with tears. Mikey sighed and shifted their positions so she was now lying on her back and Mikey hovering over her. He's putting most of his weight onto her hips and thighs like he usually does. "I feel like I'm hurting you when you look at me like that..." he murmured, pressing his forehead against hers

There is so much she wants to say. So many things she wants to tell him but can't. "You're not hurting me, Mikey," she ends up saying, her voice trembling with emotion. "It's just... everything. It's been a lot."

Mikey's gaze softens, his eyes reflecting the depth of his love and understanding. He leans into her touch, seeking solace in the warmth of her presence. "I know, sweetheart," he murmurs, his breath mingling with hers. "But we'll get through this together, okay? You and me."

There was an overwhelming silence that lingered between them. Maya didn't have anything to say and Mikey didn't seem to want to continue this either. Finally, Mikey leaned in for a gentle and slow kiss, a hand next to her head, holding himself up over her all the while coaxing Maya wordlessly through the affectionate kiss. Maya sighed, she knew Mikey wasn't the best at expressing his emotions despite being devoted to catering to her emotions— or whatever Mikey's version of catering to her emotions was.

After pulling away, Mikey wrapped her arms around him and dug her face into his neck, feeling utterly defeated. "I'm sorry" she muttered into his neck, not really knowing what she was apologizing for

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Maya," he murmurs, his voice tender against her ear, lips brushing against her skin with each word. "You're going through a lot right now, and it's okay to feel overwhelmed."

He presses a chaste kiss to her neck and then rolls off her. "Let's get you to sleep, hm... You need rest"

Maya nods faintly in agreement, her exhaustion weighing heavily upon her. She allows Mikey to guide her into a comfortable position, curling up beside her as she sinks into the welcoming embrace of sleep. Despite the turmoil raging within her mind, the rhythmic sound of Mikey's steady breathing beside her serves as a lullaby, soothing her frayed nerves and offering a fleeting sense of peace amidst the chaos of their circumstances.

As sleep begins to claim her, Maya finds herself clinging to the fleeting hope that Mikey's promise of finding a way out will ring true.

Something's pressing her, suffocating her. Not to the point of being unable to breathe, but discomforting. Maya hated this. What's happening?

What's—

"Izana?" her eyes glazed over, heavy with sleep when she pried them open to the sight of a blurry figure, dark in the moonlit bedroom.

Her eyes cleared out to the familiar outlines of Izana's broad frame, hovering over her, his face hidden in the shadows of the moon. When she tried shifting up on her elbows, she couldn't lift a finger. Both her wrists pinning above her head, Izana holding them both in one of his hands, caging her in. Sirens went off in her head. "Izana," she slurred out, sleep bleeding out of her head in urgency.

Even in the darkness, Izana's irises were a ring of lavender, glimmering and predatory in the dim lighting of the room, illuminated by the bright white moon staring at them through the window in its full glory. Maya's goosebumps broke out. "For a child, you're quite lovely," Izana says, smiling "I don't think anyone I have met in all my time on earth has been so sweet to me... I wonder if you taste as good as you are"

Maya thinks she might throw up or scream or something— because what the fuck was going on? Mikey had left earlier due to some work in Osaka and oh man had she known Izana was here she would have pleaded for Mikey to stay. "You're so easy on the eyes bunny..." he murmured, brushing her hair away from her eyes

This was terrifying. This is the first time she's facing Izana while not under the influence of some drugs or going through withdrawal since he abducted her. "You...what is this?" She whimpered out, hoping he was just going to scare the shit out of her and leave

"To put your faith in a low-life creature like Manjiro. How kind of you bunny," Izana said, feigning innocence over Maya's demands. The corner of his lips curled up into a smirk. Menacing. "How naïve."

"Wh-What?" Maya whimpered out, not understanding what he meant

"Manjiro has done all this work to get you to let him in. I must say I'm a little jealous" Izana murmurs "He did it so easy by being fake about his intentions... Lying to you... While I... I've been being truthful this entire time"

"What're you going to do?" Maya dodged, fighting back the lump threatening to crawl out of her throat and chest as her heart broke and shattered underneath her captor

Mikey was lying to her about something. Something? What? Her head feels like a mess still despite having recovered from the withdrawal almost completely. Izana dove down and kissed her, taking Maya off-guard. The struggle she put in was minuscule compared to the sheer amount of power Izana exuded from just pressing her down with a single hand, she kicked and thrashed but Izana didn't budge, undeterred. Like Maya's attempts were nothing but mere swats of flies. Izana ripped away, eyes widening a fraction. Maya's chest heaved with huge gulps of breath, teary from the assault upon her. Izana's tongue poked out to swipe over her lower lip. Maya whimpered, feeling horrible. Izana grinned at her. It wasn't like she didn't know he was fucking evil.

Maya had no reason not to believe Izana. After all, he had been truthful to her about what he wanted from her the entire time.

A sick type of revenge.

Punishment for something she wasn't even aware of.

"This isn't fair... I didn't know" Maya tried standing her ground despite being held down like this.

Her will was slipping, she was grasping on loose sand at this point. But she won't give in. She couldn't. "I didn't do anything Izana! I didn't know!"

"Of course, you didn't, bunny" Izana says with a laugh, pressing more of his weight down onto her to keep her still "I don't care though"

His words hang heavy in the air, suffocating her with the weight of his twisted intentions. Despite her desperate protests, she knows that Izana's ruthless resolve leaves little room for mercy or redemption. With each passing moment, Maya's sense of helplessness grows, her heart pounding with fear and uncertainty. Trapped beneath Izana's relentless hold, she feels the walls closing in around her, suffocating her with the harsh reality of her captivity. Despite her attempts to reason with him, she knows that Izana's twisted sense of justice leaves no room for mercy. "Please, Izana, let me go," Maya pleads, her voice trembling with desperation while she continues to try and free her wrists from Izana's grasp "I won't tell anyone about this, I swear."

Izana's laughter rings out once more, cold and merciless. "Oh, little bunny, you don't seem to understand," he sneers, his grip tightening around her wrists

Tears well up in Maya's eyes as she realizes the depth of Izana's depravity. "You're sick," she whispers, her voice barely above a whimper.

Izana's smile widens into a cruel grin. "Perhaps," he replies, his eyes gleaming with malice. "But not as sick as Manjiro"

It still confuses her. Why is he saying that? Just what did Mikey lie to her about? As if sensing her turmoil, Izana leans in closer, his breath hot against her ear. "You think Manjiro is your saviour, bunny," he murmurs, his voice dripping with venom. "But he's nothing but a wolf in sheep's clothing."

Maya's heart pounds in her chest, her thoughts spinning wildly. She wants to believe that Mikey is different, and that he truly cares for her, but Izana's words plant seeds of doubt in her mind. Could she have been so blind? So naïve? Maya watches Izana pull out his phone and then play a video, putting the screen in front of her face. It was from the news, dated 2 weeks ago. "A body has been found near the docks of Yokohama pier in a car that was set to blaze. Police identified the body as newly graduated psychiatrist, Kaneko Maya, ruled as a suicide as a note was found on the scene. Kaneko had been missing for the 2 and a half weeks and—"

Maya's heart drops. "W-What?" she whispers as the clip continues to play

She was dead. She'd be declared dead. She thinks she might throw up. If she was declared dead that meant no one was looking for her. Maya thinks she might as well actually be dead. "Y-You did this..." Maya chokes out, trying not to sob

Izana giggles like she said something funny. "Not me... Manjiro"

Maya's mind races, trying to make sense of the betrayal she's just witnessed. She can't shake the feeling of betrayal, the sense of being utterly abandoned. The weight of it all threatens to crush her spirit, leaving her feeling hollow and lost. "He got a call from Chifuyu one day... The same day you and him were out playing in the ocean like a bunch of children. Chifuyu asked his precious Mikey-kun for help with looking for you"

Chifuyu was... Looking for her?

"Of course, Manjiro had other plans," Izana says with a laugh "He wanted to keep you. I don't blame him though... You're so pretty, bunny... Even I wanted to keep you"

Maya's mind reels at the revelation, her heart torn between disbelief and despair. Chifuyu was searching for her all along, yet Mikey chose to betray her trust and keep her captive. The realization hits her like a tidal wave, leaving her feeling battered and broken. Tears blur Maya's vision as she struggles to process the magnitude of Mikey's betrayal. How could he have deceived her so thoroughly, leading her to believe in a false sense of security while he orchestrated her captivity? The pain cuts deep, slicing through her already fragile heart like a knife. That meant it wasn't because Izana was older that Mikey couldn't tell him to let her go— it was because Mikey wanted to keep her here too. But she's barely even able to process this when Izana presses all his weight down onto her at once. "I wonder," Maya's breath hitched when Izana dropped down, grazing his teeth across the skin of her neck "How much will it take for you to break..."

In one moment Maya was glaring at the back of Izana's hair, trying not to cry, fearing for her life, a moment of stillness with the waves of cold breath against Maya's neck. "I don't think it would be much since I know how fragile that mind of yours is"

In the next, she's flipped onto her front.

So Izana takes her. Forcing it on her. Not that it mattered to him but it did to her. It was the first time she was in her right mind when Izana did this. The room is spinning as Maya is flipped onto her back again, dizzy and drunk from all the overwhelming feelings, throat is scratchy after screaming and crying for help that never came. He's drilling his hips down on Maya, deeper and punching the breath out of her and choking on her spit.

Somewhere along the way, Maya hadn't noticed Izana had released her wrists, the skin there throbbing from having been constricted of blood supply for so long. Only coming to realize when Izana lifted her up by the small of her back to press against his chest, her fragile little body in his lap now, swallowing her cries and letting her scratch the skin of his back, a small attempt of refusal or a distraction from the overwhelming sensations she's experiencing, weakened by time.

Maya tasted her own blood as she cried into his chest, her head feeling like it was stuffed full of compact cotton balls, her mind swirling but not numb to the pain. This is wrong. It hurts, hurts so much she feels like she can't breathe properly.

But the pleasure is undeniable. The gratifying surges of electricity at every thrust Izana gives her grow intoxicating, overwhelming her to the point if this were in a very contrasting setting, she would have loved it, craved it.

But it's not. This is Izana growling into her ear, dragging his teeth threateningly over her jugular and drawing out whimpers and cries from Maya's trembling lips, his every touch leaving burning trails and deep indigo bruises all over her skin. Maya put a hand over her eyes, crying into it as the other scratched at his back and shoulders. "Do it," Izana tempts and lays her body back onto the bed, still connected

"No..." Maya hiccups as Izana pried her hands away from her face, intertwining their fingers deliberately and pinning them to the bed.

Maya tried facing away, but Izana yanked her face forward, smashing their lips together and she could only take what was given to her. "Please," Maya blinks through her tears, fat droplets wetting her cheeks like soaked sheets. "Stop it. End this."

"Come for me," Izana replies, his teeth baring deadly "Bunny..."

Maya caved in with a cry, body convulsing underneath Izana's weight as she released, Izana leading her through the hazy fog in her head with soft words, encouraging if she will. "That's it, that's it... Good girl... my pretty bunny"

Her legs fall slack beside Izana's waist, Izana hitching them back up at his hips as he picks up pace once again. Maya's body follows in the rhythm of Izana's hips, dragged over the sheet and the friction burns the skin of her back, yet she could only let out shuddery moans and whimpers in response when feeling something warm and wet spilling into her. Overstimulated and overwhelmed, Maya cried even harder this time. It felt good yet it hurt so bad.

Maya's consciousness almost slips away, blurry from exhaustion. "Take me, Maya," Izana allures, cheekbones glistening with sweat from the moonlit, using her name for the first time after a long time "Accept me, and you will be granted with everything you desire in this world."

"No," affirmative despite the shakiness in her voice.

Maya's eyes still burn with profound hurt and betrayal as they glare at him. Izana's face darkens, his aura wafting out of him in waves of death, instilling fear further inside Maya even in her subconsciousness. "Just take whatever that is given to you like a good girl."

At this, Maya is shocked, the phrase bringing back memories. Maya sees herself being alone as a child, the isolation from her peers as the whereabouts of her family circulated the town— the death of her father, her mother's suicide and Maya's own attempt. Growing up without friends and without any love— Chifuyu rejects her after taking her virginity, being betrayed by Mikey.

Only being able to take what was given to her and unable to ask for more.

Maya understands the whole point of this memory walk is to accentuate the very aspect that had shaped her into who she is now: lonely. Misunderstood. The unwanted child simply was taken away from her home and became a plaything for two eccentric monsters.

An unwanted starving stray dog that begged for love like it was food.

Maya cries, pressing balled-up fists to her eyes in hopes of stopping the rewind of her memories. It was stupid. Why was this happening now of all times? Why and how was Izana able to evoke such emotion in her? "That first night you joined Sunshine Grove, you were just there, in your scrubs and white coat with no safety precautions taken like the other doctors and nurses. I could have easily taken you, overturned you. Made you mine," Izana softly says. Maya feels his icy cold fingers stroking her cheeks, flicking away her tears. "Why did I go through all those troubles just to bring you here?"

It's like Izana is talking to himself rather than questioning her. How should she know? What's gotten him so fixated on Maya that he's willing to go to this length to be accepted? "I want you to want me," he whispers into her ear

"Don't you want to have someone with you, at all times? To be there for you no matter the situation?" Izana peels her hands away, and caresses her face with a gentleness void of the callousness and aggression from before, yet the tears trickle down Maya's cheeks like a river.

A solid proof of how affected she is still by her past, however, he even knows about any of it. "You won't ever have to be lonely. Ever again."

Izana sees right through her, sees the cracks in her armor that she's fought so hard to conceal. It's as if he knows the depths of her pain, the scars that mar her soul, and he's using them against her. "What do you want from me," Maya demands, lips wobbling because she can't take this anymore.

This heartache, the pain.

"I want you to surrender," he murmurs, his voice dripping with a sinister allure. "I want you to give yourself to me completely, body and soul. I want to possess you in every sense of the word."

"All of you," Izana says, truthfully, angrily as he whispers against her mouth, his breath hot against her skin, carrying the weight of his insatiable hunger "I want all of you."

So Maya succumbs.

Izana pushed back in. Gentler this time. He let Maya wrap her arms around him, crying into his neck, legs going around his middle. "How cute" he cooed, using one hand to caress her side

He leaned down and kissed her, tongue slipping into her mouth. This time it was softer. He pulled away, a string of saliva connecting their lips. "gonna make you feel so good Maya" he murmured, picking up the pace of his hips "my pretty little bunny"

His hands went up and down her body, pressing into bruises and making new ones. He suddenly drilled his hips into her again. Her nails scratched his back whimpering louder as the pressure in her body returned. "Will you be mine sweetheart?" He peppered kisses to her shoulders "I promise to take care of you"

"I'll be yours"

[END SCENE]

"Do you know how long you've been here?" Kakucho asks as he patches up the bloody bite mark on Maya's left shoulder

She's barely consious, not even mentally there in the room with him. Was it possible for someone to be such a mess after sex? Apparently yes. She doesn't even think she felt this way after sleeping with Chifuyu or after Mikey. Why is it that everytime after after Izana she feels like she's been through absolute hell? "U-Um..." Maya tries to think for a moment "2... 2 and a half weeks"

Maya wants to go to sleep but Kakucho wasn't letting her. "Wrong. You've been here for a month"

That wakes her up. "W-What?"

Maya's mind races as she struggles to comprehend Kakucho's words. A month? Had she truly been trapped in this nightmare for that long? The realization hits her like a physical blow, leaving her feeling disoriented and overwhelmed. "I-I don't understand..." Maya stammers, her voice trembling with disbelief. "How could it have been a month?"

Kakucho's expression is grim as he meets her gaze, his eyes reflecting a mixture of sympathy and unease. "Time flies when you're not having fun," he murmurs, his tone laced with bitterness. "You were out cold for most of it, thanks to the drugs Izana kept pumping into you... Izana and Mikey"

Maya's heart sinks at the revelation, a cold knot of dread settling in the pit of her stomach. The thought of losing entire chunks of time to Izana's cruel machinations and Mikey's obsession fills her with a sense of profound horror. How many moments had she missed? How much had she suffered while trapped in the depths of her drug-induced haze? As the weight of the truth sinks in, Maya's mind races with a million unanswered questions. How had she lost track of time so completely? A bout of hopelessness overcomes her. A month. She missed an entire 2 weeks. No she forgot two weeks. Her memory of it wasn't there. "Listen... I didn't ask Izana to spare you just so you can fuck Mikey and pretend everything is okay" Kakucho says bluntly

Maya's heart lurches at Kakucho's words, his blunt honesty cutting through the haze of confusion and despair that surrounds her. His words are like a cold splash of water, jolting her out of her stupor and forcing her to confront the harsh reality of her situation. "I-I didn't..." Maya stammers, her voice barely above a whisper. "I never wanted any of this..."

But even as the words leave her lips, she knows they ring hollow. She had willingly offered herself up to Izana, believing his promises of protection and salvation. She had chosen to trust Mikey, to believe that he was different from the monsters that surrounded her. And now, faced with the consequences of her choices, Maya feels a crushing weight of guilt settle over her like a suffocating blanket. "I'm sorry..." she whispers, her voice trembling with emotion. "I'm so sorry..."

Kakucho sighs as he puts the last piece of medical tape on the gauze, securing it to the wound. He buttons Izana's red silk shirt she was wearing back up and says "It's not me you should be apologizing to... It's yourself"

Maya's heart clenches at Kakucho's words, his gentle admonishment piercing through the fog of her self-pity. She knows he's right. She had been too quick to trust, too eager to believe in the possibility of salvation amidst the darkness that surrounded her. "Listen to me, Maya" Kakucho says lowly, barely above a whisper as if fearing someone else would hear him

He cups her cheeks and forces her to look at him. "I know you feel really fucking helpless and I shouldn't even be helping you right now but..." He pauses again and sighs " I know someone who got away from Mikey long ago and hasn't been caught since"

Kakucho stares at her. Bright blue eyes, pale skin, faint freckles, curly hair. Fucking hell they were almost the same. Almost. "He was weak as hell, couldn't fight for shit but he didn't ever give up..." Kakucho then laughs a little "You got fucking waterboarded and continued to try and run despite the consequences... If it hadn't been for the drugs I think you would have succeeded"

He's encouraging her but Maya doesn't know if she wants to trust him or not. After that whole betrayal with Mikey she feels... Wrong. But then again, she should have expected it from the leader of Tokyo Manjio Gang. Kakucho had been nothing but kind to her this entire time, patching up her wounds, helping her through her withdrawal and other things but... She felt hesitant. This could possibly be a ploy. Izana could have put Kakucho up to this. "If he can get away from Mikey unscathed then you can get away from them both" Kakucho tells her, his thumbs rubbing against her cheekbones "Mikey and Izana..."

Right now, Maya had no reason to trust Kakucho.

Not after everything she'd been through. Kakucho wouldn't help her escape. He wasn't going to betray Izana like that. Right now, he was just giving her encouragement for some reason— just because she reminded him of someone. Maya had no reason to trust him and she wouldn't.

She wasn't a fucking disney princess and Kakucho was far from a prince or a knight in shining armour.

Kakucho was knight of course, but not for her, but for Izana. His armour is dented with the blood of people he's killed for Izana and Maya will not make the mistake of trusting anyone else affiliated with the Tokyo Manji Gang ever again.

She'll escape all on her own—

—even if it entails her demise along the way...

notes: okay so I got all my info for the drug withdrawal care from here. How accurate it is, idk but it's reddit so 🤷‍♀️ none of the stuff I write I say is accurate, this is all merely for fun. according to my research, no one recovers that fast from addiction(special cases maybe). But yeah, just for fun so don't take any of this seriously.

Gatored is banned in Japan so I searched for an alternate which is Pocari Sweat which is drunk widely in Japan for the same purpose.

I really couldn’t get myself to write the smut detailed for very obvious reasons.

title of this chapter is from the song: i don't smoke by mitski

But hope you guys enjoyed this chapter

likes, reblogs and asks are greatly appreciated

taglist: @highpri3stess @mysouleaten @yaya4thawin @piroporopo @reiners-milkbiddies @bontensbabygirl @tenjikusstuff4 @fairey555 @haikyuusboringassmanager @maraya-007

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kirishwima · 3 years

Text

ughHhhh

#its midnight and i just got home from the library #and idek what i wanna do #do i want to eat something or do i wanna shower #then again im also down to just throw myself into bed and sleep in my clothes as i am #but i should at least put some pyjamas on and brush my teeth #then again i still have more to study #but im also hungry;;#and i have to be up at 7am tomorrow so ill just shower then i cbb rn #my head hurts #ghhh #ive been studying for 11-12 hours #with like maybe a lunch break inbetween? i didnt take any breaks otherwise damn #im slowly feeling a little more confident in my studying but my knowledge is scattered and unstructured #and the studf i havent revised i remember 0 about so i gotta look through them #luckily its why im pushing myself this hard-so the weekend ill re-revise w my friend #so by tomorrow night i gotta b done with my third revision #its an isnane amount of work to get done ngl but i can do it #i gotta #i just wanna pass this exam and then come home and s l e e p #at least this time im remembering to take my meds properly so i havent had any panic attacks 😪#burrito talks

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wellsayhelloaagin · 3 years

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Hi!! Can I please request the fluff prompt 24. “how mad would you be if i kissed you?” for Wanda x Reader? Fem or gn reader would be great. Your writing is amazing, congrats on 1k!!!

Thank you so much! I'm glad you like my stuff, hopefully you like this too :)

24- “how mad would you be if i kissed you?”

~850 words fluff drabble- Wanda x reader (some implied spicy stuff so proceed with caution)

1K Celebration

“You’re infuriating sometimes, you know that?”

You look over at Wanda to see her lying on the ground, her arms covering her eyes.

The two of you had just moved into your shared apartment after two years of dating. You had spent the day hauling boxes and furniture up the stairs and to say you were exhausted was an understatement.

You were lucky that you had your friends to help you, it would have been a much longer day if you had to do it on your own. Once everything had been moved in, you and Wanda had bought pizza for everyone for dinner, feeling as though it was the least you could do to thank them for their help.

The group had finally left half an hour ago and all you and Wanda wanted to do was crawl into your bed and go to sleep. Wanda was quite happy to throw some pillows and a blanket on the mattress on the floor just for the night but you had insisted that you could put the bed frame together in five minutes.

Now here you were, surrounded by screws and tools, only half way through the task.

“It’s just taking a little longer than expected,” you say, trying to hold one of the legs steady while you slide the bolt through the hole to lock it into place.

“I’m so tired,” she whines and you roll your eyes at her. “Don’t know why you always insist on being so stubborn.”

“Well maybe if you helped instead of just complaining, then we might get it done quicker.” You didn’t mean to snap, but the long day was catching up to you.

In all honesty you were regretting your choice to assemble the bed, but you were far too obstinate to give up now.

Wanda reluctantly sits up, moving over to sit next to you with a scowl on her face. She says nothing as she holds the leg steady for you, making it easier for you to secure the bolt in place with the spanner.

With her helping you quickly finish off the rest of the frame in silence, pulling the mattress onto the bed. You help Wanda tug the sheets on, then the two of you start getting ready for bed. You tug on your pyjamas while Wanda brushes her teeth, the silence still stretching on.

You finished getting ready and slip into bed, Wanda joining you under the covers. You’re worried she’s still mad at you but like every night, she curls up to your side, resting her head on your chest.

“I can’t believe we’re finally in our own place,” she sighs and you can hear the smile in her voice.

“You better believe it, babe,” you tell her, pressing a kiss to her head, “can’t wait to wake up to you every morning.”

She hums against you, shifting closer as she wraps her arm around your waist.

“I’m sorry for being grumpy earlier,” she tells you, her voice soft. “I was tired and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“It’s okay,” you tell her, running your hand through her hair, “I’m sorry for being stubborn about the bed.”

“I’m glad you were,” she shifts to look at you, resting her palms on either side of your face, “much nicer to be in our bed than just a mattress in the floor.”

She leans down and presses her lips to yours, resting her weight on top of you. You feel her slide her leg between your thighs as she deepens the kiss.

“Thought you were tired?” you mumble against her lips as she slides one of her hands down your side, reaching for the top of your pants.

“I’ve got a little energy left,” she replies, kissing along your jaw.

You slide you hands around her back, reaching for the hem of her shirt to lift it off.

Before you make it there, you hear a loud crack and then suddenly you’re falling, the bed frame giving out and sending the mattress crashing to the floor.

Wanda lands on you with a grunt, your arms arapping protectively around her on instinct. You sit there stunned for a few seconds before you begin to laugh at the whole situation.

Wanda groans, rolling off you and crossing her arms over her chest with a pout on her face.

“Ugh, I forgot how much you sucked with tools,” she huffed out, “never should have trusted you to put the bed together.”

You’re still chuckling as you lean over her, noticing how adorable she looked with her pout.

“How mad would you be if I kissed you right now?” you asked, bending your head closer to hers.

“Very,” she replies, but you can see the smile she’s fighting, her lips curling at the corners.

You roll your eyes, closing the gap and pressing your lips to hers. Sure you would have preferred to sleep in your bed but as you pick up right where you left off, you know that finally living with Wanda in your own place was worth a night on the floor.

#s writes stuff #s celebrates 1k #wanda maximoff drabble #wanda maximoff x reader #fluff

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farfromharry · 3 years

Text

Mini Valentine | Stepdad!Tom fic

Summary: Your valentine’s plans with your fiancé get slightly set back when you get called in to work, leaving Tom to spend the day with your daughter.

Word count - 4,017

Warnings - One brief mention of throwing up, i think that’s it?

Unfortunately for you and Tom, you’d been called into work on the morning of the 14th, based on ‘emergency’. It was all very last minute and caused a lot of stress for your fiancé, even if he tried to promise you that it wasn’t a big deal and he could sort something, but anyone would be stressed while finding out their plans for the day had been spontaneously ruined that same morning without warning.

You originally had plans to go on a family trip to the zoo during the day, wanting to show Scarlett all the adorable animals that she’s never had the pleasure of seeing in person. Then you were meant to be heading to a romantic dinner with Tom at the same fancy restaurant he took you to, to propose. All while his mum watched Scarlett for you so you both got some well deserved time together.

“I’ll just shift the reservation, it’s okay,” he promised you, kissing your shoulder as you tied back your hair to keep it out of your face.

“You’re an angel,” you whispered, making sure to press a lasting kiss to his lips. You could tell he was exhausted, and you didn’t blame him, it was barely even four in the morning and you were already up and ready to leave the house.

You couldn’t leave without making a hundred percent sure he was okay with you heading in, moving over to where he’d tucked himself under the covers again, trying to shield his bare upper half from the cold morning air.

He’d planned on getting some more sleep before your munchkin woke up and decided she needed her stepdad to feed her instantly, something she did often.

“I still feel bad, ‘m sorry.” He shook his head, cupping your cheek with his large hand.

“You have nothing to worry about,” he chuckled, finding some amusement in the idea of you feeling so guilty about something you couldn’t control, especially when the issue was so easily resolved.

You rested your head on his bare chest for a few seconds, just until you really had to leave so you wouldn’t be late.

“I’ll take Scarlett out somewhere, still got to win her over.” You rolled your eyes at his words, pecking his lips one more time before standing up.

“You know she loves you already,” you mumbled, referring to all the moments the two had shared over the few years you and Tom had been together.

“No, she loves my cooking.”

You scrunched up your nose, feigning disgust. “I don’t know why.” Tom scoffed, his heart fluttering when you let out that silly giggle that he adored.

“Y/N?” he called. You hummed. “Happy valentine’s day.”

You placed one more kiss on his lips, taking your time to study his face as you pulled away. “Happy valentine’s day Tom.” You waved goodbye without letting him say anything else, not wanting anymore distractions that could risk making you late, closing your bedroom door behind you.

“Mummy?” You turned your head at the sound of your angel’s sleepy voice, seeing her standing in her bedroom door. She looked like the cutest little thing, hair all messed up from the way she’d slept, in her Disney pyjamas, rubbing her tired eyes with her first while her teddy bear was squeezed as close as possible to her chest.

“What’s wrong bub? You should be asleep.” She waddled over to you, wrapping her arms tightly around your legs. Your fingers threaded in her hair, trying to tame the flyaway strands, tucking them back into her scrunchie loosely.

“I heard you awake,” she mumbled, almost falling asleep in the position she was in. You pouted, leaning down to kiss her head.

“Mummy has to go to work,” you said, seeing the frown forming on her face. “I’ll be back later, but that means we can’t go to the zoo.”

If she had the energy she probably would’ve thrown a tantrum right then and there, but taking into account the utter exhaustion consuming her tiny body, meant she didn’t have the effort to argue. All she could do was flash you her typical pout and puppy dog eyes, but even those weren’t enough to win you over this time.

“Why don’t you go get in with Tom for a bit, get some cuddles?” You were always trying to encourage her to do more with Tom, praying that she would get along with him well enough to accept him. She did at least like his cooking, so that was a start.

She hummed, placing a sloppy toddler kiss on your cheek before shuffling down the hall to your room. You chuckled to yourself, grabbing your keys, jacket and any other necessity, leaving your daughter and fiancé to spend the day together.

Tom couldn’t fall asleep until he knew you were on your way, his subconscious telling him that he couldn’t let you be late by getting distracted with something in the house.

That meant that Tom felt the tiny body that was crawling onto the large bed, climbing under the covers on your empty side.

“Hi,” she whispered, laying her head on your pillow. The man laughed silently, noting how much she was like you with her mannerisms. He asked if she was okay, checking she wasn’t in here because of a nightmare.

“Mummy said I could come get cuddles.” The girl often liked Tom more when she didn’t have the energy to be mean, so at times like this she was often very affectionate towards him.

“Of course, c’mere.” She shuffled closer to him, curling her body into his chest while her head rested on his shoulder. Tom pressed a light kiss to her temple, soothingly rubbing her back until her breathing evened out and he was sure she was asleep.

He wasn’t too far behind her, letting his own wave of exhaustion crash over him until he was back into the deep slumber he’d been in before it was interrupted by your phone ringing.

»»——⍟——««

Tom and Scarlett ended up getting out of bed around 10. He’d sent the girl to the bathroom to do her business and brush her teeth while he made her breakfast, going over some ideas of what they could do for the day in his head.

“How do you feel about going to the aquarium today?” he asked, slipping a pancake onto her plate, letting her decorate it however she wanted. Her eyes widened and she rapidly nodded her head. Tom chuckled, preparing some breakfast for himself, taking a seat next to the girl at the kitchen island.

“Can we see the penguins?” she asked, filling the silence with the innocent question. She let out a squeal when Tom nodded, thanking him with the same amount of energy.

She finished her breakfast quickly, bouncing in her seat as she waited for Tom to tell her she could leave. “Go get dressed, we’ll go in a little while.” She didn’t have to be told twice, jumping down from the seat to run to her room.

Tom left to get dressed a few minutes after her, changing into some jeans, a plain white hoodie and a coat on top.

He waited by the front door for more than a few minutes, confused about what was taking the little girl so long.

Tom didn’t want to impose, he knew she was capable of getting ready herself, but he also didn’t know if something else had possibly gone wrong.

He headed to her room, knocking on the door before pushing it open. “Hey bug, what’s taking so long, you okay?” He could see the tears on her cheeks as she sat in front of the mirror, a hairbrush and a hair tie to her right. “What are the tears for?” He asked softly, bending down beside her to wipe them away.

“I can’t do my hair.” She sniffled, looking up at the man with those big eyes that looked exactly like yours. He was such a sucker for those eyes. “Do you want me to try?”

She nodded, handing him the stuff he needed. He brushed through the strands of her hair as carefully as he could, making sure to avoid brushing any tangles harshly, and apologising if he caught any anyway.

“Ponytail?” he asked. She nodded in confirmation. Tom wasn’t exactly a pro when it came to hair, he’d grown up with 3 brothers, so he didn’t really have anything to do with long hair until he spent those nights when you were drunk. He would always carelessly throw your hair into a bun or ponytail to keep it out of your face when you threw up, receiving a mumbled thank you from yourself.

You’d helped him learn the basics a while ago, teaching him how to do a simple braid and how to do a quick ponytail, but that was all he knew. He was never sure if his versions of the hairstyles would be up to Scarlett’s standards.

He pulled all the strands in, making sure there were no loose ones before wrapping the hair tie around them all, keeping them in place at the back of her head.

“Is that okay?” he asked. She nodded, standing up from her spot. Tom raked his eyes over her outfit, making sure socks were matching and everything was on right before guiding her to the entrance of the house.

She took a seat next to him on the stairs, swinging her legs while she waited for him to pass her, her shoes. She easily slipped them onto her feet, right then left, just like you always did when you were here.

“You think you can tie them yourself?” he asked. She nodded her head, grabbing a hold of the two pieces of white string on her left shoe.

“I’m a big girl,” she argued. Tom raised his hands in defense, muttering an okay.

Her big girl mindset didn’t last for long when she realised she in fact didn’t know how to tie her shoes. Tom tried to hide his smile, knowing this was going to happen.

“Tom?” She asked. He hummed, looking up from where he’d been putting on his shoes. She pointed down to the little converse that were on her feet, the laces messy and undone. “Can you do them, please?”

He tried his best to show her how to do it, but the girl got easily distracted, rambling on about all the different fishies she was going to see. He couldn’t be annoyed, finding it completely adorable how she babbled on.

“Alright, up?” He didn’t want to pick her up if she’d rather walk, not wanting to risk the girl throwing a tantrum so early on in the day. However, to Tom’s surprise, she agreed. She stood on her tiptoes, reaching her hands up to the sky, a signal that she wanted to be lifted up.

Tom scooped her up into his arms, resting her on his hip while he collected everything he needed to head out for the day.

Scarlett busied herself in playing with the chain around Tom’s neck, finding it intriguing for some unexplained reason.

He carried her out to his car, having to follow her instructions on how to get her into the car seat, it seemed to be a struggle for Tom everytime.

Once he was sure she was safely in her seat, Tom climbed into the driver’s seat, sending you a quick text to tell you they were heading out.

At one point during the short drive, Tom glanced through his mirror to see Scarlett quietly singing along to the radio, which he turned up so she could hear better, kicking her legs in her carseat happily.

The aquarium wasn’t too far away, and before Tom knew it they were inside and ready to look around. Scarlett complained about how it felt like it’d taken forever, clutching Tom’s hand with her tiny one as she dragged him towards what she thought looked most interesting.

“Look at that one!” she gasped, pointing to the vibrant coloured fish. Tom nodded, grinning down at the pure happiness on the little girl's face. The sudden vibration in his pocket made Tom jump. He pulled out his phone to see your contact lighting up his screen. He took a few steps back from her, so she was still in his eyeline but her loud squeals weren’t heard in his ear everytime she spotted a pretty fish.

“Hello?”

A smile creeped onto your face just at the sound of his voice, it was all you needed to hear to convince you you could make it till the end of your shift.

“Hi.”

“How are things?” You let out a sigh, glancing around the ward with a bored look.

“It’s okay, I guess, nothing much happened after this morning,” you explained. “How’s it going with Scarlett?” Tom smiled to himself, watching as the girl stared in awe at all the vibrantly coloured fish swimming in the tank.

“I didn’t take her to the zoo because I know you wanted to go, so I brought her to the aquarium you’ve been to before.” Your heart soared. The fact that Tom both listened to your stories about your daughter and respected the things you wanted to do with her were just more things to add to your ‘why Tom is the perfect man’ list.

“Are you having fun?” There was an underlying hint of sadness in your voice that Tom quickly picked up on.

“Yeah, but it’d be even more fun if you were here.” You could hear him quietly talking to Scarlett in the background, something about spotting a certain coloured fish. The girl responded with a squeal of excitement when she found out, gushing about how pretty it looked.

“She sounds happy,” you commented, pulling Tom’s attention away from the girl again.

“I think she is, this is the warmest she’s been with me.”

You bit your lip to try and hold back your smile. You’d both been waiting for the moment she’d decide she was ready to accept Tom as her dad, and it’s been a long journey to get to that point.

“Well, I should go, but i’m glad you’re having fun.”

Scarlett ran over to Tom, clutching his legs and asking who was on the phone. When he responded with a simple ‘mummy’ she decided she needed to talk to you right that second.

She ended up occupying you on the phone for much longer than you’d intended, finding it impossible to get away from the girl while she was ranting about all the different animals and fish they’d seen.

“I don’t want to keep you then, tell Tom to have fun too okay?” She mumbled a quiet okay. Tom was watching her with an amused grin, finding it adorable how large his phone looked pressed against her head. You said your I love you’s before hanging up to continue wallowing in your own self pity.

»»——⍟——««

The picture Tom sent you around 1 was the thing that kept you going, but was simultaneously the thing that almost made you cry in the middle of the hospital.

The two were sitting in the restaurant at the aquarium, the girl cuddling some kind of fluffy penguin teddy that you were sure Tom insisted he buy for her, while grinning at the camera.

He followed it up with a little message afterwards that basically confirmed your suspicions.

‘She loved the penguins and I couldn’t resist, this is Oswald x’

You giggled at the name, an obvious reference to the time Harrison came over and let her watch Batman. You ended up setting the picture as your lock screen, clicking your lock button to see your baby’s face light up your phone screen.

Your eyes drifted up to the clock on your phone, seeing you had at least another 2 hours left of work.

You wish you could say those last couple hours flew by, but it felt like they were never going to end. You spent most of the time being handed more and more tasks to do that you were scared you wouldn’t finish before the time you could go home.

Thankfully you did, wanting to practically scream with relief once you climbed into your car. You felt like you had more energy now that at any point during your day, which was very confusing considering the long almost 10 hour shift you had.

You heard the excited yells of your daughter the second you walked through the door of your home. She’d quite clearly seen your car pull up outside and just couldn’t wait to greet you.

“There she is.” You were almost tackled into a hug by the four year old, the girl beaming at you. Tom helped you slip your jacket off once Scarlett decided to let go of you.

“So, how was it?” She was more than happy to tell you again every single thing her and Tom did, going as far as describing almost each and every one of the fishies in detail.

Tom joined in at random parts with bits of information that seemed to slip past her excited mind. He watched you both with a smile, silently laughing at you when you realised you’d probably be here for days if you didn’t stop her.

“That sounds like so much fun, but you need to go and get ready for when Nikki comes.”

She still hadn’t taken up calling Tom’s mother Grandma yet, but you reassured her that it’d come with time, exactly the same as your reassurances to Tom.

She ran away to her room to do as you said, leaving you and Tom a moment alone before you got ready for your date.

Tom’s hands made a beeline for your waist once she was out of sight, bringing you in close to him until you were pressed up against his chest.

“Hello handsome.” A faint blush creeped onto Tom’s cheeks, the man trying to hide it by burying his face in your neck. He placed soft kisses all over the skin there, earning him a pleased sigh from you.

Your hands trailed up the expanse of his muscly back, eventually residing in his mess of hair. Gentle tugs on the short curls were what brought his attention away from your neck.

He smiled at you, resting his forehead on yours. Your noses occasionally clashed from the close proximity, but neither of you cared enough to pull away. He was the one to close the gap between you, slotting your lips together in a slow kiss. It wasn’t hungry or needy in any way, more so screaming that you’d missed each other.

“We should get ready,” you mumbled onto his lips, unwilling to pull away just yet.

He hummed. “We really should.”

Neither of you made an attempt to move. This time it was you who couldn’t stand not kissing him, placing such a soft peck on his lips that he was sure it almost didn’t happen.

“I love you.” You grinned, rubbing your thumb over his unruly eyebrow, eyes flickered over the tiny features of his face. He took the time to study your eyes while you did so, noticing the little flecks of different colours that didn’t match your overall eye colour.

You finally looked into his eyes, those golden, honey orbs that just made you melt inside everytime they stared at you with just so much adoration.

“I love you too.”

He let you go and get ready after that, pouting adorably as he watched you strut your way to your bedroom. You picked out your outfit before hand, pulling the hanger with the gorgeous silver dress out of your wardrobe, laying it on the bed.

You knew Tom would probably sneak a look at it, but seeing it on a hanger wouldn’t even compare to seeing it on your body.

You took a lot longer getting ready than you expected to, purely due to the long, hot shower you took that felt like a necessity after your work day, and also the fact you hadn’t truly gotten yourself dolled up for something in a while, something that you greatly missed.

Tom was there as soon as you were finished to make you feel even better about yourself, throwing compliments at you left and right that left you a flustered mess of butterflies.

At some point Scarlett had creeped into your room, looking at your pretty dress in awe.

“Doesn’t your mummy look pretty?” She nodded her head rapidly, complimenting you profusely. Your fiancé knew you were getting flustered, trying to cover your face to hide from your own embarrassment. He placed a quick kiss on your head, his hand slipping down to the small of your back to guide you to the front door.

You gave Scarlett a tight hug, telling her to behave, while Tom placed a kiss on her head.

“Thank you again,” you gushed, making sure to give Tom’s mum an extra tight hug before you left. She always told you that she loved taking care of Scarlett, even if she wasn’t her biological granddaughter.

Tom led you out of the house with a lovesick grin plastered on his face, making you rather suspicious about what he was up to.

“What are you so smiley about?” you asked. He simply shrugged, placing a kiss on your knuckles as he told you absolutely nothing.

“Just happy to finally have to myself.”

»»——⍟——««

The small body of the girl barreled towards you as soon as you stepped through the front door. She surprisingly almost knocked your balance, forcing a giggle out of your slightly tipsy self.

You were able to scoop her up, holding her on your hip.

“I know, we’re home,” you whispered, cradling her to your chest. She tucked her head into your neck, trying to not let sleep consume her so she had more time to spend with her favourite person.

While you were snuggling your baby, Tom was once again thanking his mother, telling her a little about the lovely night you had at the restaurant.

Nikki could see in his eyes as he watched you, just how much adoration he felt for both of you. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen her son look like that.

“Missed you,” she mumbled, muffled by the way her mouth was resting on you. You responded with a simple kiss, noting how her eyes were so desperately trying to flutter shut.

You couldn’t blame her, you had accidentally woken her up at a ridiculous time in the morning and she was still only a toddler who often took multiple naps throughout the day.

“Let’s get you to bed.” She whined in your ear out of protest, shaking her head in your neck. Her head raised, looking around the room until her eyes landed on Tom.

She twisted in your arms so you were only holding her by her stomach. Scarlett made grabby hands at Tom, a sleepy pout on her lips when he didn’t instantly come over.

“Can daddy put me to bed?” she asked, so innocently.

Tom froze, his heart growing in size as he stared at her. You and Nikki shared a look, one that told the other you were happy you could experience this moment.

He didn’t exactly know what to do, becoming a bit of a stuttering mess. He’d been waiting at least over a year since you’d gotten engaged for her to say that one word, a sort of confirmation that she was happy he was there.

You could see the tears lining his waterline as his mind replayed the 6 words she just uttered. It seemed to take him a few seconds to come back down to earth, nodding his head. You helped transfer Scarlett from your arms to his much stronger ones, the male making it look like lifting a feather. Scarlett shifted slightly, sighing as she got comfortable in his hold.

“Yeah, of course, daddy can put you to bed.”

»»——⍟——««

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#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland imagines #tom holland oneshot #dad!tom #stepdad!tom

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obeymeluv · 3 years

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Demon Baby Headcanons: A Reference for “The Baby Assignment” Project

It made more sense to post my headcanons as a single thing since I’ll be working on “The Baby Assignment” headcanons in between the “Quick! Kiss Me!” miniseries.

These will be hinted at throughout “The Baby Assignment” pieces and I just wanted to put them all together. Keep in mind these are demon baby headcanons. I don’t really have any idea about angel baby headcanons since I’m card locked in chapter 21 :/

I think I got them all. I can’t really think right now.

Warning for one headcanon about human eating (obviously discouraged in the Devildom). I wanted to put in a section about how the Devildom handles bad parents (hint: logic first, then with justice) but I wasn’t vibing with it. Didn’t do it. No worries.

Demon children are usually born small but develop quickly until they stagnate around “teenage” years. Most babies (ironically) weight at least 6 pounds. It’s VERY rare to get a smaller baby and they must be taken care of EXTREMELY well

Their eyes will open within an hour or two of delivery and will be their lifelong color

Because they’re typically raised in the darkness of the Devildom and learn to flourish in the shadows, demon babies really struggle with exposure to light. It hurts their eyes and makes them cry. They should be shielded from light until they’re about a year old or show increased tolerance. Unless they need glasses or have a birth defect, most children appear to tolerate light with no problem between 4-6 years old.

Hybrid children are an exception (and hard to record for the census given how many subspecies of demon there are and all the magical co-mingling), but full-born demon children typically nest and seek out sources of heat to stay warm until they’re able to walk, talk, and do more for themselves. They tend to attach to the warmer parent.

Devildom childcare advocates recommend swaddling the child in parents’ clothes or clothes of relatives because it keeps them warm and orients their brain to who the main family members are. Pyjamas are a suitable exception but parents and close family should make an effort to show the child their scent

Demon children latch, and not just on their milk-producing parent. Within the first month of life the tiniest baby talons come out and allows the child to latch onto the clothes/skin of their caretakers. Full demon children latch and can maintain their grip/fully support themself in moments of stress, aggravation, fear, and in moments of cuddling. It is still recommended to support the child with an arm because they will get tired. Half-demon children should be supplemented with an arm or carrying device until the full extent of their latching ability is determined

Latching is also critical to scent development. It is an instinct of the child to tuck itself into or around those that will protect them. Unless absolutely sure of their safety, they tend to latch onto the stronger parent. When they feel safe, they usually latch to the other parent or try to make a nest with both

For babies who latch or show interest in latching, being semi-naked or completely naked is recommended. Their parents’ scent is stronger and seems to be preferred this way.

Devildom children don’t really crawl. The best way it can be described is “skitter”. You’ll hear their little claws go. Most parent describe their children moving in a lupine manner, on all fours. they like to stay low to the ground and move faster than human children.

There have been reports of children climbing up cabinets, walls, and onto structures like chandeliers and fans. This is part of their hunting instinct and preps their claws for the different things they will encounter/handle as an adult.

Most demon children develop their “Devildom” vocal chords first and will define parents/family by individual growls/shrieks. If other languages are not encouraged in the household, it is not unusual for a child to stay in this stage until two or three. They typically gain muscle control/development to speak real words by they end of their first year

Devildom babies aren’t as tactile as human babies but will definitely show preferences. It’s a lot easier to figure out what a Devildom baby hates. They’ll be quick to show you.

Devildom babies purr to show contentment and can start purring within 1-2 months of birth. This is one of the first signs of affection.

Other signs of affection include petting the parent or trying to get them in a state of skin-to-skin contact (see latching, above), snuggling, headbutting, showing nesting behaviors, and gently teething on them.

Full-blooded demon children can expect to cut fangs starting at the end of the first year. They will get their first full set of fangs near age two. For children who can only inherit one set of teeth, these fangs will be with them for life. They will naturally harden and lengthen to a full adult set as the body grows.

Mixed demon children are special cases where fangs are concerned because some species have extra sets of fangs, defense mechanisms where they lose and regrow teeth, and other things of that nature. For most species, teeth are seen in the first year of life.

Fangs typically look pointy and shark-like until they get a little older (somewhere between 3-6, it varies amongst children) and the teeth start to differentiate themselves in a “human-like” smile.

Children with fangs should have a greater variety in their diet for the sake of tooth shaping and development. Fangs need to be kept sharp. They can have slightly tougher food or snacks, and may display the “kill shake” when eating. This is normal. Supplement with teething toys as needed, but keep a close eye on them. It’s best to engage them a little like a tug of war to help develop the biting instinct and lengthening of the teeth.

Tails, like fangs, do not have set rules for growth or appearance. Some children of purer lineages get them as early as 3, and some get them as they move into the teenage years. There is no set age for tail development. If the child itches their back/bottom a lot, tends to streak, and shows general aggravation or discomfort, it’s best to take them to a health specialist to see if they’re developing a tail.

It is a similar scenario for wings. The child may cry or scratch a lot. Be prepared for biting and wrestling your children into shirts. Back rubs, cold creams, and soft textures are recommended. Though VERY RARE, some children can develop their wings within the first year of life. It is more normal to see them sprout between the ages of 3-5

Should the child develop wings young, they will take on a life of their own. They will twitch and flap at random times and this is normal. This is the child’s brain working wing movement into the subconscious, just as it would breathing. Devildom children who have wings go on to move them reflexively and this is how that starts.

Keep an eye on your child. They will try to hover and may be able to pull their body weight and travel short distances (about 30 seconds) within the first year of having them. Within two or three years they will have better altitude and some sense of guiding with a bit of a struggle. Prepare to be dive-bombed “accidentally” and for things to be broken in bad landings

There have been reports of full-blooded and half-blooded Devildom children gaining night vision. You can determine if your child has this by whether their eyes grow in the dark. Remember the rule of thumb: the older the demon lineage, the brighter their eyes. If obtained, this stays with them for life. The degree of clarity varies amongst children.

Children may develop horns. All horns start out as tiny velvet nubs once they break the surface of the scalp. Prior to breaking the surface, the child may scratch at their scalp excessively, rub their heads on things, or headbutt tougher surfaces to counteract the pressure and itchiness they feel. Scratching their head or brushing their hair may help but nothing can be done until the horns breach. If the horns do not breach, take them to a healthcare facility. They may need help.

Horns should be watched closely as they start to take shape. Some shapes need to be regularly broken or shaved to prevent the child from harming themselves

Children are driven to develop their horns and may try to shave off the velvet lining by rubbing against family members or hard surfaces. This is normal.

It is not uncommon for children to try to “lock horns” with each other when younger. This is another way to shave off the lining. Some studies indicate that this type of play may make them develop faster. If one of the parents have horns, it is encouraged to do this with great care

Although not scientifically proven, the vast majority of Devildom parents swear by rubbing horns to soothe tantrums and put children to sleep. Seems to work. Interestingly, this trait carries on to later stages of life but brings a greater variety of reactions.

It is not uncommon to see growth spurts and great deals of change between the first 7-13 years of life (7-13 by human standards). After this, the demon will stagnate. Their rate of development can vary but demons live for thousands of years so it takes a very long time for signs of aging to occur

Old records suggest that feasting on human souls or the blood of other magical creatures may accelerate this process but these records cannot be confirmed.

Certain activities, such as participating in a pact, are prohibited until the child is 1,800 or older. Their magical capacity is not there and they cannot legally be bound in a pact. If a sorcerer or sorceress is pushing for a pact or you believe a pact has been made in bad faith, a grievance can be filed with the magical review board. If the other party is found guilty, a piece of them may be taken for consumption for the sake of “fairness”. Repeat offenders will be handled by Lord Diavolo (and are usually eaten. This has been “tentatively” amended due to the effort to unite the three realms)

Children who come from very powerful lineages (for example: one of the Seven Lords) may exhibit that key sin trait from a very early age. Some children will be hungrier than others, some will want more attention than others, some will be far stronger and may accidentally break things. Be prepared and parent accordingly.

Those born to succubus/incubi/naga lineages may show signs of charming or hypnotism from the age of two or when they can form sentences. If a member of your family has a natural susceptibility to this, brush up on negating spells and personal reinforcement charms.

#Obey Me!#obey me! x reader

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agustdakasuga · 4 years

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You Never Walk Alone | Chapter 2

Genre: Werewolf!AU, Poly!AU?, Mate!AU, romance, fluff

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Student!reader, Omega!Seokjin, Alpha!Yoongi, Beta!Hoseok, Alpha!Namjoon, Omega!Jimin, Beta!Taehyung, Alpha!Jungkook

Summary: You live a quiet life in your late grandfather’s cabin in the woods. You go to school just to graduate and get your diploma, not to make friends or stand out from the crowd. That was until one day, you enter your home to see a pack of wolves that need shelter.

You cannot stop thinking about the wolf. You felt a strong bond with it despite it only being around for a few hours. A part of you dreads going back to the quiet house without him there.

“Did he get back to his pack safely?” You sighed as you looked out the window. For some reason, the wolf couldn’t leave your mind. You wondered how he was, if his bandages came loose, if he found his home.

All the more your bullies were annoyed that you weren’t even sparing them a glance today. Your mind was somewhere else, thinking about someone else that they seemed invisible to you. Lifting your hand, you remembered how soft his fur felt against your fingertips.

“God, he’s a wild animal who just needed shelter for the night. He’s gone.” You scolded yourself mentally.

But for some reason, you were so captured by him. The way he would whine or grin at you like a person would. Or how he scoffs or rolls his eyes at your words, as if telling you to shut up.

If not for his looks, he could be human.

Maybe this was the universe telling you to get a pet and stop being such a loner. You couldn’t help but scoff at that thought.

“Omg, she has officially gone crazy. She’s even talking to herself.” Someone pointed at you, snickering. Everyone laughed alone. You just rolled your eyes and rested your chin in your palm.

After working, that evening, you got down at the bus stop and headed through the forest track that you always took to get back to your wood cabin. You had your earphones blasting music in your ears as you walked. The darkness didn’t scare you. There weren’t many wild animals to be afraid of anyways, well... except now you knew there were wolves.

*howl*

You pulled one earphone out when you heard a distance howl. Your heart grew warm as you thought that it could be your wolf.

“I hope you found your family.” You smiled and continued on your path. When you reached your home, instead of going into the house, you sat on the log outside, admiring the stars.

Hearing footsteps, you turned your forehead to see him. He walked over casually, planting his butt down next to your feet. You blinked at him.

“You’re... still here?” You were confused.

“Don’t you want to find your family?” You stroked his head. His head dropped and ears drooped at your words, letting out a whine. Did he not have a family like you? Was he also left behind? Sighing, you continued to stroke his head and even rubbed his ears.

“Guess we’re both alone, huh?” You chuckled bitterly.

"Well, at least we both have each other to count on now.” Jimin barked.

“Alright. You can stay here with me if you want.” You rolled your eyes as you shook your head.

He stood up and smiled at you, wagging his tail as he let his tongue fall out of his mouth. You laughed but was caught off guard when he pounced on you, showering you in licks.

“Yah! Yah! Stop!” You laughed.

“Never!” Jimin laughed as he continued to shower you in kisses. He backed away and sat back down as you pushed yourself up.

“Alright, let’s get dinner.” You dusted your clothes before unlocking the door and entering. As you left him to go shower, you stared at yourself in the mirror. You couldn’t stop smiling. You touched the mirror, it has been so long since you’ve even seen yourself smiling. There has just never been a reason to smile so you never did.

You came out and changed into comfortable clothes. When you came back down, the wolf stood up and headed to you.

“After dinner, we’re giving you a name. I don’t think you really like the name ‘wolfie’, huh?” You patted his head and he let out a bark in agreement.

It was a dinner of mixed noodles for you and for the wolf, the same boiled chicken. He was not impressed, his expression was a dead giveaway as you put down the bowl in front of him.

“I need to go grocery shopping tomorrow, okay? This is all I have.” You said defensively. He huffed but dug into his food anyway. You sat on the couch to eat.

As you watched your show, you felt something wet on your cheek, making you jump.

“Yah! I should seriously attach a bell to you. You walk too quietly.” You scoffed as he used his nose to boop your cheek. You slowly inched away, only to have him step closer to you. He eyed your food and blinked up at you innocently. You knew what he was hinting at.

“Nu uh. This is mine. You already ate your share.” You held the bowl away. He whined, staring into your eyes.

“Sorry but puppy eyes don’t work on me, mister.” You scolded as you continued eating. He gave up, lying down next to you, resting his head on his front paws.

After you were done, the wolf waited for you to wash up and do the dishes. He tilted his head, looking at you curiously as you pulled out a chart.

“Here. Choose your name.” You pointed to the Korean alphabet.

“Do you even know how to-”

He cut you off by stepping forward and using his right paw to tap at the alphabet. You quickly wrote down wherever he stepped on and put it together. He sat down and waited for you to put the words together. He smiled at the way you stuck your tongue out of your mouth as you were deep in thought. Finally, you slammed the writing pad down, making him jump.

“Oops. Sorry... Jimin.” You looked up at him.

“You got it!” He barked and you smiled, throwing your hands over him to pull him into a hug.

“You like the name Jimin?” You asked again and he barked.

“Nice to meet you, Jimin. I’m (y/n).” You pulled away. He barked and turned around, chasing his tail, making you laugh before falling onto his back and rolling around in joy.

“(y/n)! What a beautiful name for a beautiful human.” Jimin softened. You smiled at Jimin and patted his head. Looking at the clock, you went upstairs to do your homework or it would be too late. You didn’t know that Jimin followed you. He watched as you settled in front of the desk with your books.

“What are you doing in here?” You giggled. Jimin stood on his hind legs, resting his front paws on your thighs as he sniffed.

“It’s math. You know math?” You chuckled, stroking his head.

He jumped down and curled up next to my chair on your rug. You turned back to do your word. Jimin chuckled as he heard your occasional cursing as you wrote the workings wrong.

“She reminds me of Jungkook...” Jimin looked at you fondly. But immediately grew sad at the thought of his youngest brother. How was he doing? Was he okay?

After a few hours, you stood up and stretched your arms. Jimin lifted his head to watch you. You moved around the room, packing your things. He admired the way you would hum a random tune as you did your things like packing your bag and organising your messy desk. You were so amusing that he could watch you for hours.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You said, making Jimin blink.

“You probably don’t understand that.” You laughed, patting his head as you walked past.

“Hmm... Tomorrow is Friday but I’m not working this weekend. Maybe we can have a picnic by the lake.” You checked your calendar. Jimin stood up and barked in approval, wagging his tail.

“Maybe I can find my pack!” Jimin thought excitedly.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been on a picnic.” You sat on the edge of your bed, a sad smile on your face.

“What’s wrong, (y/n)? Don’t be sad, please.” Jimin whimpered, resting his head on top of your lap. You shook your head with a forced smile. Standing up, you went to the bathroom to brush your teeth before you returned, dressed in your pyjamas.

“Your bed is in the living room, mister.” You pointed. Jimin whined.

“Fine! You can stay here but on the ground. You haven’t had a bath yet so you’re not coming on my bed.” You glared and went downstairs to grab the blanket that Jimin used.

“Here.” You laid it over him and slipped into your own bed.

“Goodnight, Jimin.” You said, a smile on your face as you turned to lights off. You haven’t really wished anyone goodnight in a while and it made your heart grow warm again, you didn’t think Jimin would melt the loneliness.

That night...

“No...” Jimin’s head perked up as he heard you. Standing up, he headed over to your side, seeing you toss and turn. You had a frown on your face and cold sweat covered your forehead as you whimpered. Jimin changed back into a human, covering his naked body with the blanket before he cupped your cheek, stroking it gently with his thumb.

“You’re okay, (y/n). I’m right here.” He whispered with a soft smile.

“Please don’t... leave.” You cried.

“I’m never leaving you. I’ll always be here for you.” He leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead. You slowly calmed down, the frown disappearing from your face.

Satisfied, Jimin turned back into a wolf. But this time, instead of going back to the rug, he curled up on the ground by your side of the bed.

[Dream]

“(y/n)... Wake up.” A voice spoke. You opened your eyes and looked around. How did you get into the middle of the forest? The last thing you remembered was your nightmare, it was dark and lonely.

“(y/n).” The same voice called and you turned around to see a boy standing there. He was so good looking, almost like an angel. As you faced him, a smile grew on his face, his eyes turning into crescent moons. You blinked in confusion as he waved at you to come over.

“Who are you?” You tilted your head.

“Come on, you know me. Think about it.” He held your hands in his, his light laugh filling your ears.

“I’m sorry, I don’t recognise you.” You admitted in embarrassment.

“Ah... I guess that’s okay. We’ll meet soon.” He tugged you towards him so he could hug you tightly. He pressed his face into your shoulder and you couldn’t help but melt at his warmth.

It felt so different from your nightmare. That felt cold and dark. But with this mysterious boy, it was warm and bright. He pulled away and planted a kiss on your forehead that you swore felt real. Almost like lips were really touching your forehead. He pulled away with a big, bright smile. Waving, he ran off into the forest while you just stared blankly.

“Oh, (y/n)!” He called, breaking your stare at you looked at him.

“No more boiled chicken please! It’s too bland!” He laughed and realisation hit you hard as he said that.

“J-Jimin?” You finally blurted out.

“Hey! Wait! Jimin, don’t go!” You reached out to him but he disappeared behind the trees, leaving you to stand there alone. Was that boy really Jimin? That was nonsense, how could you dream of a wolf as a person?

You stirred awake when you felt something wet on your cheek. Your eyes shot open and you recoiled in shock, only to see a curious Jimin sitting there, staring at you with his head tilted.

“You scared the hell outta me!” You put a hand on your cheek. He let out a low howl and nodded over to your nightstand.

“Oh damn! I forgot to set my alarm! Thanks, Jimin!” You rushed out of bed. Luckily Jimin woke you up only 5 minutes after your supposed alarm time so you weren’t that late. You brushed your teeth and took a shower, changing into your school uniform.

“Jimin! Breakfast!” You called and he trotted into the living room. As you set the plate down, you remembered what human Jimin said in your dream.

“No more boiled chicken please! It’s too bland!”

“Hmm...” You looked down at Jimin who just blinked back at you.

“Nothing, go ahead. I’m just insane, as usual.” You scoffed and dug into your own eggs. Jimin inwardly sighed at the chicken but ate anyway. Being a wolf meant his appetite was huge. He was always hungry.

“I’ll drop by the grocery store to get more meats for you, okay? But let me warn you, don’t expect Korean beef cause I’m not spending that much.” You folded your arms and Jimin grunted at that. You cleared up the kitchen as you ate. Jimin frowned in disapproval at that but he knew you were pressed for time and didn’t have time to properly clean.

“I have to go!” You grabbed your bag and slipped your shoes on. Jimin sat in front of you patiently.

“You can go back to sleep, Jimin.” You stroked his head. Jimin just sat there stubbornly. You shook your head with a smile and stood up, beginning the walk to the bus stop. Jimin stayed by your side until the main road.

“People may see you.” You smiled down at him.

“Like I care.” Jimin rolled his eyes but still stood by the edge of the forest to watch you. You watched him as you waited for the bus.

When it finally pulled up, you gave him a small wave and he smiled, his tongue hanging out of his house. Once your bus disappeared out of sight, Jimin turned to head back into the forest. But instead of heading towards the forest, he went to the lake that you were supposed to go with him to tomorrow.

“Please.” Jimin stepped closer to the water and drew a symbol into the surface, causing a rippling effect.

“Thank God.” He let out a shaky sigh of relief as he saw the image 7 lit crystals appear. That meant his brothers were still alive, he could still find them.

Being the head pack of their region, they had almost the status of princes. They each had their own coloured crystal that could appear in water if their pack symbol was drawn.

Each symbol represented a member of the head pack. If one member died, they crystal’s light would die down as well.

“I hope we find each other soon.” He said to his pack’s broken mind link and walked away from the lake, going back to the house. He entered through the side door that you now left unlocked for him to come in and out of.

“Time to stretch.” He turned back into his human form. Even if he was alone, he wasn’t going to walk around naked so he wrapped a towel around his waist as he lounged inside the house. He felt like he could relax a little, knowing that his family was still out there. But for some reason, he didn’t want to leave you to find them. The thought of you coming back to the empty house again hurt him.

You grabbed a cart and pushed it through the supermarket. You had your usual music playing in your ears and people were looking at you, a girl in high school uniform, grocery shopping at close to 10pm.

“What choice do I have? I had to work.” You mentally sighed as you grabbed rice and placed it in your cart. Then you went to the meat counter.

“Girl, there’s a sale on beef since it’s the end of the day.” The butcher told you.

“But let me warn you, don’t expect Korean beef cause I’m not spending that much.”

You smiled as you remembered what you told Jimin this morning. Maybe you should surprise him and treat yourself. You got the beef, some pork and chicken to store in the freezer. After that, you went to get some vegetables. Do wolves eat vegetables...?

“He’ll just learn to eat vegetables then.” You shrugged and placed an assortment in the cart, as well as some fruit. Once that was done, you paid and began to make your way home.

“Jimin!” You called as you dragged the bags of groceries through the door. Jimin trotted over, staring as you fell down from the weight.

“Sorry I’m late. Let’s have dinner.” You began to keep everything. Jimin poked his head into the plastic bags curiously, sniffing around to see what you bought for him.

“What did you buy?!”

“Hey, no snooping.” You lightly hit his muzzle. He snorted.

“Go on. I’ll make dinner now.” You said and began to prepare dinner. Heating up the pan, you dropped the steaks into it to sear it. You seasoned yours while leaving Jimin’s plain. From the living room, Jimin was smelling the amazing scent of meat being seared that he had a strong urge to just turn back into a human and eat it.

“Dinner!” You called and he dashed over, sliding and knocking into your legs. You chuckled and took the plate with his food, putting it down.

“It’s beef! No more disgusting chicken!” Jimin smiled in excitement, barking and jumping up and down. He happily dug in while you slurped your ice noodles with sliced beef on the side.

“Enjoy it, babe.” You patted his back with a chortle. You made some lettuce wraps for yourself.

“Want?” You casually held out a piece of lettuce to him. Jimin leaned forward to sniff a little when you grabbed a piece of beef off his plate. He growled.

“Calm down! Geez, I just wanted to make a wrap.” You scoffed and wrapped the piece of beef in the lettuce, holding it out to him for him to eat. He sniffed it again and opened his mouth. You laughed and pushed it into his mouth. Chewing, Jimin opened his mouth again.

“Huh... A wolf does eat vegetables.” You made another one for him to eat.

After dinner, you showered and settled on the couch with a cut apple. Jimin sat next to you, his tail swaying for side to side as he waited for you to feed him. You focused on your drama, taking one bite and holding it out to Jimin.

“Pay attention to me!” Jimin rolled his eyes. He leaned down to nibble to half bitten apple slice from your hand.

“Look, Jimin!” You patted on him, pointing to the screen with a puppy.

“Do you seriously think that pup is cute?! You seriously have not seen cute.” He shot you a flat look but of course, you didn’t notice as you were busy cooing at the puppy on the television screen.

He sighed and laid down, putting his head on your thigh. He whined cutely and you looked down at him.

“What?” You run your fingers through his fur. He stared back up at you as you turned back to the television. Jimin rolled down so you were rubbing his belly instead. His hind leg kicked in satisfaction, letting out sounds of happiness as his tongue rolled out the side of his mouth. You couldn’t help the smile that appeared on your lips.

“You’re a puppy too, aren’t you.” You teased.

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helloalycia · 3 years

Text

worth the wait [five] // daisy johnson

summary: the longer Daisy spends with you, the more you realise that maybe nine years isn't enough time to get over her.

warning/s: mentions of PTSD.

author's note: this is the final part, but it was a little long so i’ve put it into two posts. hopefully the daisy stans appreciated it 😊

I woke with a start, immediately feeling my hair sticking to the nape of my neck and the need to shake off my duvet.

The fear of my nightmare still implanted in the pit of my stomach made me reach for my bedside lamp. I half expected someone to grab my hand in the dark, my imagination working overtime to scare the living hell out of me, but nothing happened except for the lamp turning on.

I sat up in bed and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm my racing heart. It was just a dream, nothing real. And I knew that, logically, since I was in my childhood bedroom instead of a dark torture chamber. Yet I couldn't stop crying and imagining the worst.

It was getting worse – the nightmares, the anxiety, the nausea. Ever since Daisy and my mum had told me to see a therapist, I knew it was getting worse, but I still hadn't done anything about it. Clearly, things had to change.

Barely thinking about, I found myself grabbing my phone and dialling Daisy's number. I hadn't spoken to her since she came over, and it was my fault things had been left on a bad note. That was only last week and I felt like an idiot as I heard the phone ringing.

"Hello?" her groggy voice came through, and I immediately felt bad.

I swallowed the lump in my throat as I tried to silence my heavy breathing. "Hey, Daisy. It's, er, it's Y/N. I'm sorry, I– I didn't mean to wake you. I–"

"Y/N?" she asked, voice laced with fatigue and confusion. "Are you okay? What is it? Where are you?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you," I said quickly, trying to maintain my shakiness. I brought my legs up to my chest and wrapped an arm around them tightly. "I'm at home. I just–" I flinched, closing my eyes. "I'm sorry, did I wake you? My parents gave me your number and I– I didn't know what else to do–"

"You don't need to apologise," she cut me off, wakening up a little by the sounds of it. "I'm glad you called. What's wrong?"

I smiled dryly, wiping away at my tears. "I, er, you were right about me. I should have–" I breathed out deeply. "I need to talk to someone about... yeah. But right now I... I can't go back to sleep."

"Do you want me to come over? I'm not far and–"

"No, no!" I said quickly, slightly embarrassed. "You don't need to– it's the middle of the night. I just– I don't know what I was expecting. I just didn't want to be alone and I didn't wanna wake my parents and worry them."

"Of course," she said reassuringly. "It's okay. I won't come, but I can stay on the phone with you if you'd like? We can talk. Or we can just stay silent. Anything you want."

I sniffled and put my head between my legs, feeling my shoulders relax a little. The last thing I wanted was to be a bother to her.

"Thanks," I muttered, and I wasn't even sure if she heard it. "I'm sorry for how I acted last week... with this."

"We don't need to talk about it," she said softly, her voice raspy as she'd just woken up. "I just want you to be okay."

I closed my eyes, breathing out quietly. I wasn't sure what to say, but the sound of her voice was instantly reassuring.

It was quiet between us, for at least another minute or so, and all I could hear was her breathing on the other side. As much as I appreciated the company, I knew it was unfair of me to keep her on the phone.

Swallowing hard, I said, "Daisy?"

"Yeah? Are you okay?"

I rubbed the bridge of my nose, knowing I wasn't. "I don't think–" I sighed awkwardly. "I won't be falling asleep any time soon and I– er, you should go. I don't want to keep you on here for no reason."

"It's not for no reason," she reassured. "I'll stay on until you fall asleep, Y/N. You'll get tired eventually."

"But if I don't–"

"I'll stay on."

I nodded, despite her being unable to see me. "Thank you..."

It went quiet again, and I felt my heart rate returning to its normal pace as I distracted myself with the sound of Daisy's breathing. It wasn't hard to tire myself to the sound, as I was already exhausted, just scared. But when I closed my eyes and let her breathing comfort me, it almost felt like she was right next to me, and my fear slowly faded away.

—

When I woke up the next morning, I was drooling on my phone screen as the sun streamed through my curtains. When I wiped my mouth, a yawn escaped my lips and I moved my phone from my pillow, confused to why it was there. But then I remembered the early hours of that morning and felt my face flush with embarrassment. I checked the screen, seeing the call wasn't still on, but there was a text from Daisy.

Daisy: hey, Y/N, I hope you feel better in the morning. I figured you wouldn't want to wake up to me on the phone, so I hung up. Please don't be angry, but I'm on my way over to see you. I just want to make sure you're okay.

That message was sent fifteen minutes ago, so I wouldn't put it past Daisy to already be outside. It was embarrassing, don't get me wrong, but I appreciated that she cared enough to check on me, even after I'd treated her disrespectfully.

I'd just managed to brush my teeth when Daisy arrived. My mum called me downstairs, claiming it was for me, and I tried not to fidget in my pyjamas as I descended the stairs and saw Daisy waiting by the front door. When she saw me, a relieved smile was on her lips.

"Hey," she began quietly, hesitant to say more in case I was mad.

I exhaled slowly, shoulders relaxing at the sight of her. She'd helped me more than she'd known, and with that thought in my mind, I moved forward and hugged her gratefully.

"Thank you," I whispered into her shoulder, closing my eyes as my arms laced around her neck.

She returned the hug and I sensed her surprise.

"Anytime, Y/N," she replied with a squeeze. "I just want you to be okay."

I nodded, lingering for a moment longer than I probably should have, before pulling away. She searched my eyes with a hint of concern and I subconsciously grabbed her hand and kept ahold of it.

"I'm gonna book an appointment with a therapist," I told her, the thought terrifying me in itself, but I knew it was the right thing to do. "And I wanted to ask if you... would you..." I swallowed hard, suddenly unable to meet her eyes. "Will you please come with me?"

"Of course I will," she promised, squeezing my hand and earning my attention. "I'll be with you whenever you want." She blinked, clearing her throat with realisation. "I mean, for the appointments, obviously."

Thankfully, her messy words brought a smile to my face and reassured me about the whole therapy thing.

"Thank you," I said, finding it cute how she was the one to avoid my eyes now. "Since you're here, you may as well stay for breakfast. If you're not busy, that is."

"Breakfast. Sure. I'd love to."

I didn't let go of her hand as I tugged her towards the kitchen to join me.

—

Having Daisy back in my life was probably the best thing to happen to me in a long time.

Not only had she literally saved my life as Quake, but she was also saving my life every day after. Whether it was accompanying me to my therapist appointments or hospital appointments, or hanging out with me way more than she needed to, she was more present in my life. I didn't ask her to – it only began when I'd asked her to come to my first therapist appointment – but she'd chosen to. And I didn't want to question it because I'd missed her more than I cared to admit.

My parents took her in as family like no time had passed and I was accepting her back into my life, too, but I didn't want to get too attached. She had a job to do at the end of the day, and knowing Daisy, she wouldn't stay for too long. I guess, in the back of my head, there was still that expectation of her picking up and leaving, just like she used to. Which was silly, since that was years ago, but still...

Despite her presence in my life again, we'd been avoiding talking about what we'd missed in each other's lives. The specifics anyway. I knew she joined S.H.I.E.L.D. and found her family, and she knew I became an investigative journalist and did many news packages on different topics, but I didn't know anything more and neither did she. I wasn't sure if it was on purpose or if we just avoided it without thinking, but I knew we had to face the music soon.

We were getting coffee after she picked me up from one of my therapy sessions when I brought it up.

"So, my therapist has been helping me with some stuff," I began, staring at my coffee as we walked back to my house. "Stuff outside of my PTSD, that is."

"Oh?" Daisy asked, and I could see her looking at me in the corner of my eyes. "Like what?"

I took a sip of my coffee, trying not to feel embarrassed as I answered, "Well, we obviously talk about my life. And what happens in it. Who I'm with..."

"Yeah..." Daisy was grinning now.

I rolled my eyes, wishing my face wasn't as warm as it felt. "She noticed you've been dropping me off and picking me up and... you may have come up in conversation."

"Ah, so you talk about me," she said slowly, trying very hard not to laugh. "Did you tell her how amazing I am? Or how beautiful, charming and funny I am?"

I sighed, finally lifting my eyes to look at her. Brown eyes twinkled with amusement as she gave me her usual teasing smile, making me shove her in the shoulder gently. Laughter spilled from her lips and I hated the butterflies in my stomach at the sound.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said, falling into step with me again. "You were saying. Go on."

Looking back ahead as we walked, I said, "Yes, well, we talked about you. And then she recommended that I try to catch up with you more. You know? Because we both talk so much about the good old days and even now, but not the in between. Not the parts that we weren't there for."

I looked back to Daisy when I finished, and she thankfully lost her amusement as she nodded in agreement. I half expected her to take the piss, but she was supportive as she glanced at me.

"I like the sound of that," she said, easing the nerves in my stomach. "So. What do you want to know?"

I cleared my throat, taking another sip of my drink and thinking of where to start. "Okay, erm... why don't we start with your S.H.I.E.L.D. friends? They're your family and I would love to get to know them better. What are they like?"

She nodded thoughtfully, sipping her coffee. "S.H.I.E.L.D., okay. Well, you met Jemma. She's basically my sister. Her and Fitz – I think I mentioned him before?" I nodded, recalling her throwing in the name in one of her stories. "They're together and they've been with me since I was recruited a few years ago. We've been through a lot together, but they've got my backs and I've got theirs."

I smiled at the carefree expression on her face. Just talking about them put her at ease and I felt a little better knowing that her time after high school wasn't completely terrible like I imagined.

"Then there's Coulson, of course," she continued, glancing at me every now and then to see if I was listening. "He's basically our dad. He's the reason I'm even with S.H.I.E.L.D. and he's always looking out for me, even when I'm doing stupid stuff."

"So, regularly then."

She nudged me in the arm at my comment, making me chuckle.

"He was how I learnt about my family," she explained. "There for me when I found them. When I got my powers. When I lost my family... he's been there through it all. I'd do anything for him."

I watched her carefully. "He sounds important to you."

Her lips curved into a small smile as brown eyes met mine. "He is."

She continued to tell me about the rest of her team and what everything was like at work, and the whole time she did, she was smiling.

"I'd love for you to meet them all," she finished, and I was surprised at the hint of nervousness in her voice. I didn't think she ever got nervous. "I mean, you've met Jemma, but the others– you should meet them, too. If you want to, that is."

"I'd like that," I said instantly, appreciating the way her eyes lit up and she tried very hard to hide her smile.

She cleared her throat, distracting from the pink spreading on her face, before asking, "So, you basically know about everything interesting that's happened to me these past nine or so years. What about you? Anything life-changing occur for you?" I opened my mouth to answer, and she added, "Apart from travelling around the world and being an investigative journalist?"

I feigned offence. "I hardly think that's fair. That's like me asking you not to talk about working for S.H.I.E.L.D. or being Quake."

Rolling her eyes playfully, she said, "Go on. Tell me something different."

I looked away from her in thought, thinking back to the past nine years. "I guess... oh, I know. I was almost married."

Her jaw dropped. "You were what?"

A laugh escaped my lips at her intrigued expression. She shook her head with disbelief.

"I have to know more," she insisted, before raising her brows. "You? Almost married?"

"It does sound strange," I agreed with amusement, before recalling the event. "It was about two years ago. I was with this guy who worked at the same paper I did. We'd been together for about a year and–"

"–and you realised he had a second family in the Bahamas?" she finished with a roguish grin.

"Very funny." I narrowed my eyes jokingly. "But no. I just realised I didn't love him. Well, I wasn't in love with him."

"Ouch."

"Ouch indeed." I paused, remembering the poor guy's face when I broke the news to him. "It was a month into the engagement when I told him the truth. He was very understanding, but–"

"–but you broke his poor little heart," she concluded, before wrapping an arm around my shoulder and tugging me closer. "Dear Y/N. The heartbreaker."

"Fuck off."

She laughed when she saw me attempting to fight a smile from my lips. Though eventually, one appeared anyway. Daisy always had the ability to bring out the best in me like that – I'd missed it.

"How about you anyway?" I asked, hoping for an opportunity to tease her in return. "Any boyfriends or girlfriends I should know about? Crazy exes, maybe?"

She snorted, swallowing her coffee before giving me a knowing look. "You're gonna need to brace yourself for this one. I doubt you'll believe me when it comes to this."

I rose an eyebrow with curiosity. "Damn, you've got me hooked, Johnson. Proceed."

And of course, that was the first and last time I heard about Agent Grant Ward. An interestingly dark tale of a dickhead of a man whose existence I was glad was no more.

"...so, do I win?" Daisy asked once she finished talking about him.

"Win what?"

She stared like it was obvious. "The best ex story, duh!"

"Wow." I snickered, shaking my head. "I guess you do."

Fist-pumping like an idiot, she said, "Knew it. Nothing ever beats homicidal psychopath almost-boyfriend."

"You need help."

"No, no I don't. I have you."

"Uh-huh."

"Love you, too."

—

Three months passed since returning from Myanmar and I was finally in a place where I could return to work. Even though I'd been putting together my research and interviews into a coherent news story at home, I hadn't physically been back to the newsroom in about a year.

My therapist had been helping me to treat my PTSD, my physical therapy was helping me get back function in my shoulder and arm, and the injury itself was almost healed, though I still had to wear a cast. Everything was actually beginning to look up.

I'd even sent off the complete news series about what I'd discovered in Myanmar to my editor which got published just before I returned to work. So, of course, as soon as I got there, that was the first thing everybody congratulated me on.

"Views have been going through the roof," Taylor, my colleague and closest friend at work, said as soon as he spotted me walking to my desk. "Your story is all anybody has been talking about!"

"Good to see you, too," I joked, an attempt to disguise my embarrassment at all the attention. "It's only been a year since we last saw each other."

He gave me a grin. "You know I missed you, Y/L/N, get over here."

I rolled my eyes playfully but accepted his hug, being careful of my shoulder. He squeezed me gently before letting go and perching himself on the edge of my desk as I took a seat. It felt strange to be back, but a good strange.

"I still can't believe you're actually here in the flesh," he said after a moment, eyeing me suspiciously. "I've been so used to quick calls and texts where I try to convince you not to do stupid stuff."

Chuckling, I shot him an appreciative smile. "You know I'm grateful for that. Even if I didn't listen."

"You not listening helped you get the best story though," he countered. "I bet you didn't expect S.H.I.E.L.D. to make the bust in the end though."

I sighed, shaking my head. "Definitely not. But I owe them a lot. They saved my life."

His expression softened. "That's another thing... thanks for not dying on me."

"You're welcome," I returned, though appreciated what he meant. "Now. Catch me up on everything I missed. Gossip an' all."

That was enough for him to pull up a seat and remind me of everything I'd missed whilst being away. We'd spoke many times whilst I was gone, but nothing quite beat a good bitching session in person.

Eventually though, our editor ended up interrupting and asked to see me in her office. I wasn't worried in the slightest, but there was still that tiny part of me that imagined the worst.

"You can stop holding your breath, y'know," Karla told me when I stopped before her desk. She seemed amused as she added, "I wanted to congratulate you on the human trafficking story."

Relaxing my shoulders, I raised my brows. "Oh. I– thank you. I'm glad you liked it."

"You put a lot on the line to get the results you did, but it shows," she continued proudly. "You've made an excellent name for yourself and done your fellow journalists proud."

"I didn't do it for that," I said politely, "but thank you. I just wanted to help those people in Myanmar the best I could."

She smiled. "And you did."

"Well, S.H.I.E.L.D. did."

"But you shared the truth, didn't you?" she reminded me. "Don't belittle this achievement."

I didn't know what to say, so I stayed quiet and watched as she took a seat at her desk chair.

"I heard that it was Quake who saved you back there," she said curiously. "You know, we've never actually gotten an interview with her. Nobody has."

Oh, so that's what she actually wanted.

"I thought, well, since you know her, you could get us an exclusive?" she asked.

I chewed on my lip. "Erm..."

"You don't have to," she added, noticing my reluctance. "But it could be good for everyone. The city can get to know its hero, you can get a great interview under your belt. And our paper gets all the views. What d'you say?"

I was beginning to regret putting that one quote from Daisy in my article now... I should have known Karla would want more. That was the thing with editors – you give them one taste and they want to eat the whole thing.

"I'll ask," I decided, which she seemed to love. "No harm in asking, but I can't promise anything."

Karla leaned back in her seat, nodding. "Very true. Thank you for understanding. I'll let you settle back into work now. Remember to take it easy, yeah? Don't want to lose my best journalist from overworking herself."

I smiled awkwardly as she laughed, before nodding in response and leaving her office.

It wasn't that I didn't want to interview Daisy, but I didn't want to ruin what we had by asking for a favour. Everything between us was going well, even if it was probably temporary and she'd have to leave soon. I assumed that anyway. And on top of that, I was certain I was falling in love with her again, just like I had nine years ago.

Could you blame me? It was impossible to just remain friends with her when she went through all this extra effort to make sure I was okay. Her kind, considerate, supportive self was always on my mind whether I liked it or not. A girl could dream, right?

After my first day back, Daisy picked me up outside. She insisted when she rang me at lunchtime to make sure I was okay, wanting to know everything about how my first day went. I couldn't find it in myself to say no, so I eventually found her sat on a chair in the lobby when I came downstairs after work.

#daisy johnson x you #daisy johnson #daisy johnson imagine #daisy johnson x reader #chloe bennet #quake #agents of shield #agent skye #marvel imagine #mcu

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writethelifeyouwant · 3 years

Text

Alpha and Omega - Ch 2 / 2

Pairing: Sam x Dean Rating: 18+ Tags: A/B/O, Darkness magic, Alpha!Dean, Omega!Sam, Dub-Con (biological necessity), little bit of meta (cuz why not), Sam’s a needy mess, Dean is possessive af Word Count: 4k Created for: @first-time-wincest-fest - 12x02 Mamma Mia | @spnabobingo - Male Omega | Summary: Amara wants to thank Dean by giving him the thing he needs most – Sam – but she knows the boys are stubborn, so she’s going to have to be creative. Problem is, she doesn’t tell Dean or Sam what she’s put in motion, and magic can be unpredictable.

Despite the many apparent flaws of these British Men of Letters dicks, at least Mick has the good sense to let Dean and Sam go. He offers to try helping Sam, but he doesn’t have any more ideas about his condition than that blonde bitch does, so Dean declines and gets Sam the hell out of dodge.

The moment they make it over the property line and past the efficacy of the anti-angel warding Cas is by their sides, sliding under Sam’s other arm to help Dean carry him to the Impala.

“Don’t touch him,” Dean growls, startling Cas and himself. Cas raises his hands in a show of good faith.

“I am just trying to help, Dean,” he reassures the hunter, lowly.

“Yeah, um, sorry man,” Dean shakes his head to clear it. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t like the idea of anyone else touching Sam right now but he doesn’t want anyone’s hands on his baby brother. Begrudgingly, he lets Castiel grab Sam’s arm and help them to the car, where they gingerly lay a shivering, and for all intents and purposes unconscious, Sam on the back seat. “Cas, what’s wrong with him?” Dean tries to keep a grip on the panic in his voice but he doesn’t have much luck.

“It’s hard to be sure,” Castiel mutters, laying a hand against Sam’s forehead, which is burning hot. “We need to get him home immediately, this fever is dangerously high.”

Dean rounds the car to root through the first aid pack in the trunk, pulling out a few instant cold packs. “Here,” he cracks one up in his hands and passes it to Cas. “Get in back, try to keep him cool.” Cas slides into the back seat of the Impala, pulling Sam over his lap and pressing the cold pack against the young man’s forehead. Dean drops the spare cold packs beside him as he jumps in behind the wheel and peels out of the dirt road driveway in reverse, gunning them back home towards Kansas.

The use of cold packs and bags of ice they picked up at gas stations along their way get the trio home without Sam’s condition worsening. Dean would send up a thank you to Chuck for that except that he’s nearly positive Chuck’s sister is the reason Sam is in this mess in the first place. I thought she wanted to do something to thank me, not destroy my life. They get Sam into bed without too much trouble, and Castiel suggests stripping Sam out of his clothes to help keep him cool.

“Get away from him,” Dean growls, baring his teeth at his friend. Castiel once again looks at him in confusion, his brow crinkling as he stares hard at Dean.

“I’m going to call Rowena, see if maybe she can help us determine what is wrong with Sam.” Cas backs up cautiously, and Dean is glad to see him go.

Once he’s alone with his brother, he does think that stripping Sam down is a decent idea – at the very least he should change him into some clean pyjamas instead of the bloodied tatters he’s dressed in now. Dean sits on the edge of the bed, gently brushing Sam’s hair away from his eyes. He has the sudden urge to lean down and kiss Sam, so he does – very carefully placing his lips against his little brother’s forehead. It seems to Dean like Sam presses back into the kiss, and when his lips retreat, Sam stretches his neck and turns his head into Dean’s side, almost like he’s burrowing there. The unconscious display of affection brings a surge of warmth to Dean’s chest, though he can’t find it in him to smile with Sam like this.

Gingerly, Dean unbuttons Sam’s shirt and eases it over his shoulders, his fingers tracing over Sam’s muscles on the way down each arm. He hadn’t spent too much time around Sam’s unclothed chest recently and he couldn’t help staring at the contours of his frame. Sometimes he spends so much time thinking about Sam as his little brother, he forgets how much he’d built himself up over the years, forgets about the strength that all those layers of shirts they wear everyday are hiding. Dean has to shake himself in chastisement for staring at Sam’s body and lusting after it like a creep when he’s supposed to be taking care of him. How could he be thinking with his dick, even now, when Sam is deathly ill? But he was thinking with his dick, because even seeing Sam half naked for a matter of thirty seconds seems to be enough to give him a semi. For fuck’s sake, Dean curses himself, and sets about the task of easing Sam out of his torn up jeans.

As he gets Sam’s abnormally long jeans off his abnormally long body, three things strike Dean as odd. The first, that the smell he’d overwhelmingly associated with Sam back at the farmhouse in Missouri all of the sudden permeates the air around him. Sure, he’d been smelling it this whole time – it had been almost unbearably strong on the 6 hour drive back to Kansas – but he figured he must have gotten used to it because it had sort of faded into the background until just now. Secondly, the way Sam’s legs were splayed out across the bed right now gave Dean a view of a dark wet patch on the light grey of Sam’s underwear – gross, Dean thinks to himself, until he realises that the stain isn’t on the front of Sam’s briefs like it would be if he’d pissed himself. That examination leads him to his third odd discovery, which is that Sam has a boner.

“Well, what have we here?” Dean spins to see Rowena standing in the doorway, smirking.

“I’m sorry, Sam’s turned into a what?” Dean blinks incredulously at Rowena, who’s perching on the edge of the table in the kitchen. He turns his head to look at Castiel, who is sitting stoically behind Rowena. The angel shrugs unhelpfully.

“An Omega, dearie,” Rowena enunciates more clearly, like she imagines she’s talking to a four year old.

“Right,” Dean nods, although he doesn’t really understand. “And I’m a–”

“An Alpha, yes,” Rowena reiterates, clearly annoyed Dean isn’t getting this. “Well, Sam’s Alpha, more specifically,” she amends.

“And what exactly does all this mean?” Dean grunts, frustrated.

“It means that you and Samuel are mates,” Rowena elaborates.

“We know that, we saw our shared heaven, like a decade ago. What the hell does it have to do with him being sick?”

“Samuel is sick because he’s an Omega in heat, and he needs his mate.”

“Well if I’m his ‘mate’ and he ‘needs me’ – I’m right here! So why isn’t he better?” Dean growls.

“I believe,” Cas clears his throat, “from what I understand of the traditional elements of this condition, that what Rowena means is that Sam needs you, as his mate, physically.” Cas looks sheepishly at Rowena for confirmation.

“Precisely,” she smiles thankfully at Castiel.

“Physically?” Dean’s not any closer to understanding what’s happening. “So what, I need to go hold his hand until his fever breaks?”

“Well, I’m not surprised that you might want to hold his hand, but it’s going to take a wee bit more than that.”

“Will you just tell me how the hell to cure him?” Dean shouts, accidentally shattering the beer bottle he’s holding. He looks down, surprised at his own strength and at the end of his tether now.

“Sexual intercourse,” Cas answers shortly, his face carefully blank. “Though, again, from my understanding, that will only cure his heat. He will remain an Omega and you will remain an Alpha.”

“What the hell are you talking about ‘from what you understand’?” Dean makes indignant air quotes at Cas.

“When Metatron put all of popular culture into my head it included every story ever written. There are a large number of stories on the internet that incorporate the dynamics of the Alpha/Omega hierarchy. It’s a trope primarily found in something called ‘fanfiction’,” Cas explains. “In fact, there is some ‘fanfiction’ about yourself and Sam if it would help you to understand the mating requirements.” Dean feels like he’s going to be sick.

“Cas, listen to me very carefully: under no circumstances are you to ever tell anyone else that those exist,” Dean groans, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Why is this happening?”

“That’s the part I’ve not got the faintest idea about,” Rowena sighs. “It would take something more than a simple spell to alter your anatomies like this. Not even an angel,” she glances at Castiel quickly to check she’s right in her assumption. “I’ve never heard of something like this actually happening outside of fiction.”

“It was Amara,” Dean sighs. “When she left she told me she was going to give me what I ‘needed most’, but I don’t know why she thought this was it. It just seems like some sick joke.”

“Ah,” Rowena nods sagely like she understands now. “She was giving you Samuel.”

“How is this ‘giving me’ Sam?”

“A physically bonded Alpha and Omega are bonded for life, inseparable. Without the other, they won’t survive their heats – or ruts, in your case.”

“So every time Sam goes into a heat, we need to have sex, or he dies?” Dean can’t believe how fucked up this is.

“You’ll also need to knot him,” Cas adds gravely. Noticing Dean’s look of incredulity, he continues. “The base of your penis will inflate when you ejaculate and lock you and Sam together for a brief time. It’s the knot that Sam needs to relieve the symptoms of his heat.”

“What the fuck?” Dean blanches.

“Not to importune but I do believe Samuel was running out of time when I examined him. You really should get to it, Dean,” Rowena cuts in.

“And how am I supposed to do that, huh? The guy’s unconscious! I can’t just–” Dean’s stomach roiled. The thought of fucking Sam was tempting, amazingly so, but the thought of doing it to Sam, without his knowledge or participation, was sickening.

“I can make him a wee draft to revive him and stave off the fever,” Rowena moves towards one of the cupboards in the kitchen where Sam keeps the common spell ingredients. “Then Castiel and I can make ourselves scarce and leave you two to it,” she smiles.

“And you’re positive this is the only way?” Dean presses desperately.

“That Amara is a crafty woman, she knew what she was doing.” Rowena throws some herbs into a small dish. “She saw that you would never ‘put the moves on Sam’, as you say. This is her way of giving you both that little push.”

“Yeah, well, she’s a bitch,” Dean grumbles, dropping his head in his hands and waiting for Rowena to finish the potion to wake Sam up.

Sam blinks awake wearily, vaguely aware that he’s safe and not being held captive anymore, but he can’t remember much more than snippets of sound and scent. The rumble of an engine, the smell of motor oil; the low tenor of Dean’s voice, and the scent of whiskey, apple pie, and old leather. He can make out all of those scents now, too, swirling around him and pulling him back into consciousness – like smelling salts.

“Hey, there he is,” Dean’s voice says nearby, he’s sitting on the side of Sam’s bed.

Sam nuzzles towards his older brother, inexplicably craving the closeness. “De,” Sam mumbles, still sleepy.

“Yeah, it’s me Sammy,” Dean smiles down at him gently, eyes soft. Sam feels an unusual rush of need wash over him like a heat wave and he presses himself as close to Dean as two bodies can possibly get with a blanket still in between them.

“Wha s’happening?” he grumbles into Dean’s chest, looping his long arms around his brother’s waist.

“Short version?” Dean scoffs, but not unkindly. “Listen man, I’ll explain everything, I promise but – right now I just need to make sure you get outta this in one piece,” Dean sighs, drawing his hand down Sam’s face and holding his cheek. Sam looks up at Dean quizzically, unused to the level of physical affection but finding he was in desperate want of more. He nods at his big brother – whatever’s wrong, he knows Dean will take care of him. “You trust me Sammy?” Dean’s voice is hoarse, and Sam realises he’s scared.

“Yeah, Dean,” Sam breathes quietly into the slowly decreasing space between them. “Course I do,” he confirms again.

“Alright then,” Dean gulps and nods, mostly to himself though, like he’s trying to psych himself up for something. Then without any further warning, Dean’s lips are covering Sam’s and pressing him down onto the bed.

The fire that had been smouldering inside Sam for days now leaps and dances, as if Dean’s kiss is gasoline being thrown across him. Sam clings to Dean as he’s laid back onto the bed, and lets Dean climb into his lap and bury his hands in Sam’s hair. Dean licks across the seam of his lips and Sam parts them willingly, drinking in every bit of Dean that is being offered to him. He can’t remember why he needs Dean like this so badly, or when he started needing him, but now that he has him he couldn’t care less. He knows with certainty that the only thing he needs to be happy for the rest of his life is Dean – Dean loving him, Dean kissing him, Dean inside him. Fuck, he needs Dean inside him right fucking now.

At this realisation, Sam starts tearing into Dean’s clothes, ripping through the thread keeping buttons in their places without a thought. He expects Dean to start doing the same to him, but then realises he’s not wearing anything but his underwear, which suits Sam just fine. Dean has to pull away from him to wriggle out of his jeans, and Sam groans involuntarily at the sight of the bulge Dean reveals when he strips down.

“Someone likes the view, huh?” Dean teases him, voice deep and throaty, but Sam’s too far gone to come up with a bratty retort. All he can focus on is that he wants Dean’s cock – now.

“Shit, you look so big De,” Sam groans, reaching out a hand to cup around Dean’s member, still hidden behind black cotton. The front of the material is wet with precum, Sam can feel it against his fingertips.

“Think you can handle me, little bro?” Dean grabs Sam’s wrist and drags his fingers along the outline of his cock, up to the elastic waist of his boxers, and then inside them. Sam’s fingers curl around Dean and stroke him gently beneath the fabric. “Think you can fit all that inside your tight little ass f’me?” he grunts, thrusting into Sam’s grip.

“Fuck yes,” Sam rasps, and his breath sounds like it’s raking over hot coals in his throat. He pulls back from Dean to shed his own underwear, staring at it puzzledly when it comes away from his body covered in slick. What is that, he wonders as he feels it on his fingers. It doesn't feel like lube… “Dean?” Sam looks to his brother for answers.

“S’okay,” Dean rushes to reassure him, joining his little brother on the bed, both of them now completely bared to the other. “I’ll explain later, yeah? Just let me take care of you right now, okay?” Dean’s eyes are wide and pleading as he looks to Sam, and Sam nods; he trusts Dean. “Just lemme take care a’you,” Dean whispers again as he brushes their lips together, and Sam pulls him in tight for another bruising kiss.

Their bodies twist and tangle easily, Sam just letting Dean put them together however he wanted. The heat of Dean against him is overwhelming, the sweat on their skin mingles and sticks them together, pulling at their nerves every time they part. Sam doesn’t want them to part. He reaches between them, grabbing Dean’s cock in his hand and thrusts his own into the same grip. Their moans ring through each others’ mouths as Sam jerks them against each other, and they take turns fucking into his fist. Before long Dean pulls away from Sam with a groan, probably to stop himself from finishing before he’s had a chance to see what the inside of his brother feels like. Sam is glad of his consideration in this case, because if he ends tonight without Dean locked firmly inside of him, he’s going to feel like he’s missing out. If he was more clear headed, he might question why the phrase ‘locked inside of him’ is the one that came to mind but he’s not thinking too deeply about what he wants right now — he just wants.

“Need you, Dean,” Sam pants, widely, grabbing at Dean, trying to bring their bodies back together. “Need… ne—” Sam’s vocabulary has become shockingly singular, and he doesn’t have the presence of mind to be irritated with his brother when Dean smiles down at him smugly, knowingly.

“I know what you need, Sammy” Dean grins down at his little brother. Having Sam this strung out and desperate for him is like a drug. I could get used to this being a monthly thing, he smirks to himself, reaching his hand down between Sam’s legs and rubbing at his slick entrance. “Need me right here, dontcha Sammy? I can feel how much you need me,” Dean groans as the tip of his finger slips inside of Sam too easily, “fuck, you’re wet. So fucking wet for me, huh Sammy?”

Sam just nods blissfully down at Dean; it seems his vocabulary of one word has now receded to zero.

Cas had warned him about this, that as an Omega, Sam would start leaking like a fire hydrant, but at least it saved him having to hunt around for some kind of lube — he’d never needed to have that on hand before, and if he found any lying around the bunker there’s a decent chance it would be cursed or something. Plus, he bet this made the whole experience way better for Sam, so he was all for it. Dean moves between Sam’s legs and runs the head of his cock over Sam’s twitching entrance. Sammy lets out a weak moan and arches against the pressure, trying to get Dean to slip inside. Dean’s about to oblige when he remembers what Cas said about them getting locked together by the Alpha’s knot once he comes, and he thinks better of their position. It will be easier to roll on to their sides and rest if he does this with Sam on his hands and knees.

He manhandles Sam into position, rolling him over, and when Sam gets the idea and pushes himself onto his hands and knees, arching his back and presenting himself to Dean like some kind of trophy, Dean can’t hold himself back any longer. He pushes his cock inside Sam slowly, agonisingly and torturously slowly. Not because he’s concerned about hurting Sam, who is opening up beneath him like he was born for this — born to take Dean’s cock — but because he knows he wants to savour this moment for the rest of his life. He wants to remember every second of the first time he felt what it was like to truly possess Sam, to be joined so completely to one another that not even their bodies can keep them separate. So Dean goes slow, even though Sam is begging beneath him, asking him to just fuck him already, Dean ignores him, and he drinks the feelings in.

When he’s got himself bottomed out inside of Sam he leans down over his brother and presses a kiss to his shoulder, tenderly, thanking him for what he’s giving Dean right now. “You feel so good Sammy,” Dean moans, and he doesn’t mean for it to sound as sappy as it does but it’s hard to regulate things like that when you feel like you’ve just connected to your soulmate for the first time, so he gives himself a pass.

The next time Sam begs, Dean gives in, snapping his hips back and fucking into him as hard as he can manage. And once he’s started he can’t stop. Every instinct inside of Dean is shouting at him to take, to fuck Sam into the mattress and never let up, which Sam doesn’t seem to mind, because no matter how roughly Dean thrusts into him he keeps shouting for more, faster, harder, please. So Dean, ever the good big brother, gives Sammy what he needs — what they both need.

Dean can feel himself getting closer and closer to his release, and that’s when he notices that he can’t quite pull out as far as before. His knot has begun swelling at the base of his cock, getting ready to pop and bind him and Sam together. The fattening edges catching on Sam’s rim give Dean a kind of friction no sex ever has before and, fucking hell, it feels unbelievably good. He grinds himself harder against Sam, dropping over his back so they can be as close as possible, and bringing his hand up beneath Sam to grasp at his little brother’s dick. It’s the first time he’s properly touched it, felt it in his hand, and shit, it feels even bigger than it looks.

“Oh my god, Dean,” Sam groans, sounding absolutely wrecked, and Dean takes that as a compliment. “Fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop, fuck, please,” Sam is pleading with him so prettily, and Dean wants to cum just as badly as him.

“Not stopping Sammy,” Dean strokes him faster, grinds into him harder, “not stopping until you cum all over my hand baby boy, so c’mon, want you to cum f’me.” Dean thanks God that Sam starts to cum loudly when Dean tells him too, because the second he feels Sam start to convulse around him his knot pops and he’s cumming harder than he ever has in his life. The thought of his seed whitewashing Sam’s insides is sickeningly thrilling and he swears a second, small orgasm rocks through him — and hey, if that’s a perk of being an Alpha, I could get used to this.

When Dean comes back to himself, his breathing finally evening out, he notices Sam slumped beneath him, no longer holding himself up. He quickly checks for a pulse, and relaxes when he finds one – Sam’s just passed out. Fuck, he came so hard he passed out. Dean shudders, feeling another small blurt of cum force itself out of his cock at the thought that he’d fucked Sam so thoroughly. To be honest he was a little proud of himself.

Dean arranges himself on his side on the bed, so he can curl around Sam while he waits for his knot to deflate. He thought he’d be annoyed by having to stay still like this for so long but it’s surprisingly peaceful, laying here with Sam asleep in his arms. He hugs his little brother tighter to him, clasping his hands over Sam’s chest – over his heart – feels the rhythm and reassures himself that Sam is here, and alive, and safe. And his. The realisation hits Dean unexpectedly. Sam is finally his in the most permanent way he can think of, and his heart leaps at the thought. The last thing he thinks before he drops off to sleep too, is that he hopes Sam still wants to be his when he wakes up.

Tags: @vulgar-library @tintentrinkerin @negans-lucille-tblr @fandomfic-galore @petitgateau911 @whoreforackles-deactivated20210 @schaefchenherde @kickingitwithkirk @little-diable @laxe-chester67 @kassyscarlett @akshi8278 @deandreamernp @lyarr24 @lovealways-j @stoneyggirl

#spnabobingo #first time wincest fest #a/b/o #wincest #sam x dean #omega!sam #alpha!dean

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katblu42 · 3 years

Text

In Pieces

This little thing was trying to distract me the whole time I was writing my Easter Tag fic! It is 4am. This may not have been adequately proofread!

There was no mistaking the tone of the raised voice emanating from behind the closed door, even if most of the words were muffled. Scott didn’t dare attempt to get any closer than the safety of the doorway of his own bedroom to hear more. Seeing John’s cautious approach to the bedroom in question, Scott caught his brother’s attention and beckoned him over.

“What’s going on?” John whispered.

“I’m not sure, but there’s no way I’m going in there to find out.”

“. . . not the first time . . . How many times, Virgil? . . . need to be told?!” The few words they could make out were enough to tell them how much trouble their brother was in, and a potential reason why. “. . . in pieces! . . . priceless antique . . . family heirloom . . . know you are never to touch! And . . . in my office to begin with!”

The two boys stood silently behind the partially closed door to Scott’s room, ready to push the door to at the first sign of their father’s exit from the room on the other side of the hall. Neither of them wished to be in Virgil’s shoes at that particular moment, nor did they wish to catch their father’s attention when he was in this kind of temper.

“. . . going to do with you? . . . how to deal with this . . . if your mother was here!” Scott winced, and John sucked in a long gasp. That was a low blow so soon after the loss. “. . . you ever learn?! . . . even look at you right now.”

Not once did Scott or John hear a voice other than their father’s. In fact there seemed to be very few pauses for any kind of response during the five minute tirade before all fell silent. When the door across the hall began to open, Scott’s door was swiftly and silently closed. They were able to hear a murmur in the hall, and John suspected it to be an instruction to “stay in there until further notice” before the door was emphatically closed.

Jeff didn’t exactly slam the door on the way out, but he made sure it was most definitely firmly shut! His blood was boiling. The boy had been repeatedly told he should ask before pulling something apart to “see how it works.” Certain things were off limits. Especially when they resided in his office, which the boys were never supposed to be in unless he summoned them there. And this particular item was priceless and irreplaceable. When he’d seen it broken down into dozens of clockwork pieces spread out across Virgil’s bed he had felt himself shaking with uncontainable anger.

His grandfather had given him the curious Clockwork Marvel with the little figures of woodsmen and their axes, saws and hammers, and the little mountain climber at the back. Jeff had been intrigued by it every time he had visited with his grandparents as a boy. He’d seen it in motion a few times, but not since he was Gordon’s age. Even back then the moving parts had been deemed fragile, so only Grandpa was ever allowed to wind it up and get it going. It had been given to Jeff when his Grandpa had passed away and Grandma had explained that it had belonged to Grandpa’s father, and had been handed down to him from an uncle who’d been a clock maker. Jeff’s boys had only ever seen it up on a high shelf behind his desk. Jeff had never wound it up to show them the movement – in fact he wasn’t even sure he knew where the winding key was. Virgil had never shown any great interest in the thing, so why now?

His 12 year old son had stood silently staring at the carpet the whole time he’d been talking to him – well, lecturing him to be honest – and it had only infuriated him more. Virgil had nodded in acknowledgement once or twice, so at least he knew the boy had been listening, but he was still not sure the message had sunk in. After all, so much of what he’d just said had been said before. Virgil was old enough now to know better, and Jeff didn’t have the patience to deal with repeating old lessons in appropriate behaviour. Lucy would have handled this better. Hell, maybe if she were here the boy would have had something else to occupy his time. But she wasn’t here. He still had to keep reminding himself of that.

He needed a drink.

That evening when the family gathered around the dinner table there was a notable absence. It wasn’t unusual for Virgil not to come down for dinner right away. He would often get so caught up in what he was doing that he’d just forget about meals until the growling of his stomach became too loud and insistent to ignore. Even then sometimes the need to “just finish this little bit” before stopping was enough to override the growling. No, the unusual thing was that their father didn’t mention the absence.

“Where’s Virgil?” Gordon asked around his first mouthful of food, spitting crumbs onto the table.

“I’ll go find him,” Scott volunteered, rising from his seat.

“No,” their father said, firmly.

“No?” Scott could barely believe what he’d heard. His brothers stopped and stared, Gordon with his mouth hanging open, Alan only because John had stopped chopping up his chicken for him. “But -”

“You heard me,” Jeff reiterated. “He is to stay in his room.”

The subject was closed. The boys knew from his tone, his expression, the subtle shift in his body language that there was no point in saying more on the matter. The steel that had been in Scott’s eyes and the set of his shoulders took a moment to soften, but soften it did, and the others turned their attention back to their plates. The mood around the table remained subdued throughout the rest of the meal. It wasn’t silent. In the Tracy household mealtimes were never silent affairs, but Scott and John spoke only in response to their little brothers, and Jeff said nothing.

As soon as dinner was finished Jeff disappeared, as was his habit lately, probably to his office. The boys had all but given up looking for their dad in the evenings. They cleared the table, Scott took Alan upstairs to get him ready for his bath while John and Gordon argued over who’s turn it was to wash and who’s to dry the dishes. And the normal night-time routine ran its course without anyone hearing a peep out of Virgil.

Without Virgil to help with getting the youngest two bathed and into pyjamas, forcing them to brush teeth and get into bed, and reading stories those duties kept Scott and John busy. Once Alan was asleep and Gordon had reluctantly agreed to let Scott read instead of Virgil, John went up to the attic nook to unwind with the relaxing familiarity of his telescope and the stars.

By the time John came down from the attic Scott was already sequestered away in his room. Not yet asleep – John could see the light under the door, which probably meant Scott was trying to catch up on homework before turning in. He didn’t think much of it as he headed for the room he shared with Virgil, which also had light leaking from beneath the door.

He opens the door to find Virgil still dressed, tinkering away at something on his desk, a few bits and pieces still laid out meticulously on the bed, and completely oblivious to John entering and crossing to his own bed. There’s no reaction to John moving about the room and getting into his pyjamas.

“Virgil?” he quietly prompts. “You okay?”

There’s a sigh and a slump of shoulders, but he doesn’t put down what he’s working on or turn around.

“I’m fine.”

“You know it’s almost midnight, right?” John knows that will make little difference to his night-owl brother. There is no response, so John tries again. “You missed dinner. Do you want me to get you a snack or something?”

“I’m not hungry.” There’s a ratchety clicking sound and Virgil finally puts the object down and turns towards John. “Thanks though.”

John can see there have been tears at some stage. The smile that Virgil tries to offer him is weak, and the spark is missing from those gentle brown eyes. John isn’t sure how to fix what’s wrong and he almost decides to go and fetch Scott, but changes his mind at the realisation that the smile is for his benefit – so he won’t worry about his wounded brother.

“We can talk about what dad said -”

“No, it’s okay.” Virgil turned back to the desk, picking up a tiny screwdriver and adjusting something. “I screwed up. But I can fix it. I’m okay. I promise.”

John doesn’t have to hear the sniffle to know there are more tears. He closes the gap between them, bare feet padding on the carpet. He’s surprised to see the little mechanical woodsmen Virgil is tinkering with. He never realised just how complex their dad’s clockwork ornament really was when broken down into its many parts, but then he’d never been this close to it before. It was more than half reassembled and he instinctively understood Virgil’s focus. He placed a hand on Virgil’s shoulder and gave a simple squeeze.

“Anything I can do to help?”

Virgil shook his head, as John knew he would. This was something he needed to do by himself.

John left him to it, went to the bathroom to finish getting ready for bed and returned to find Virgil had turned on his desk lamp and angled it away from John’s bed. When John flicked the main bedroom light off Virgil was cast in silhouette against the soft glow of the lamp. John watched him for a moment before sliding himself beneath his bedcovers and whispering goodnight. Virgil was too engrossed in his repairs to respond.

Despite the late hour at which he’d dragged himself to bed, Jeff was up in a timely manner the following morning. Scott was already helping Alan with his breakfast in the kitchen, and Gordon was making a mess of pouring cereal into his bowl. He stayed in the kitchen long enough to say good morning, make himself a coffee and grab a piece of toast before retreating to his office.

The events of the previous afternoon were still playing on his mind as he set his coffee mug down on the desk. His eyes were drawn up to the high shelf where his clockwork woodsmen should be . . . and there it was. The marvellous little ornament that he’d last seen in so many tiny pieces all over Virgil’s bed the day before was whole again. It seemed to sparkle and gleam in a way that he didn’t remember it having ever done before. Intrigued, he carefully lifted it down off the shelf and placed it on the desk. Neatly slotted into its hole in the back of the base was the winding key. He knew that had been missing for some time.

Suddenly it twigged. Virgil must have found the key. His mechanically curious boy had somehow figured out what the key fitted into and needed to know what it did. One thing would have led to another from there. Jeff knew the old machinery was not working well back when he was a boy, so if Virgil had wound it up he would have seen something was amiss. The innate need to know how it worked – or how it should work – would have been the driving force behind taking it apart.

Now that it was back together Jeff could see in his mind’s eye how each piece had been laid out in painstakingly ordered fashion on Virgil’s bed. He should have trusted the boy. Since he was four or five years old he had never failed to put pack together whatever he’d pulled apart. (There were a few mishaps with the reassembly before then, but not since.) But this was by far the most complex, the most finely detailed piece of machinery Virgil had ever attempted.

Hardly realising he was doing so, he wound the key. Once, twice, three times, just like Grandpa used to do. Tiny clockwork gears and motors clicked and whirred as the miniature woodsmen swung their axes, beat their hammers and push-pulled their saws. The little, tiny mountain climber worked his tiny pick. And tinkling metallic chimes played music. Music! He had never even known his Grandpa’s clockwork machine was meant to play music.

Tears ran down his cheeks. Many childhood memories of gazing at this fascinating ornament in wonder came flooding back. This was more than he’d ever seen the machine do, more than he’d imagined it could do. And his talented little boy had done all this in less than a day, brought new life to an almost forgotten antique.

He ran up the stairs, startling Scott, who tried to ask if something was wrong. Ignoring the inquiry he flung open the door to Virgil and John’s room with a thud of doorknob on wall that woke John, but not Virgil.

“Dad?!” John’s voice was laced with concern, but Jeff didn’t even register that he’d spoken. He dropped to his knees beside Virgil’s bed, ran his hand across the back of the boys shoulders as he slept on his stomach, gave the far shoulder a squeeze, and a firm, but gentle shake.

“Virgil? Son, wake up.” The boy stirred, mumbled incoherently and tried to roll over. Jeff took the opportunity to sit the boy up and wrap him in a tight hug. “Virgil!”

This time something in his father’s voice registered with Virgil and he blinked his eyes open. Seeing, and feeling his father’s tears, and being wrapped in his embrace, Virgil’s heart leapt into his throat.

“Dad?! What’s wrong?” His dad was crying and hugging him, something really bad must have happened. Again.

Jeff pulled back from the hug, gripping Virgil’s shoulders and looking into his son’s eyes, immediately regretting the fear he saw there. Something else to feel guilty about.

“Son, I’m so sorry!” His hand reached up to stroke unruly dark locks. “I don’t know how you did it. I don’t know why I doubted you could, but . . . I,” he faltered, his voice cracking. Virgil stared, dumbfounded. “Thank you. For fixing the woodsmen.”

Virgil was enveloped in another hug, and he hugged back, still a little bewildered. It felt good to have his father’s arms wrapped around him. It had been a long time since they’d had a moment like this, and yesterday had felt so horrible.

“There are still bits that need fixing,” Virgil tried to explain. “Some of the cogs have broken teeth, there are parts that are just loose because they’ve been worn down. It should work better now it’s all clean, but it’s not perfect.”

“It works better than I’ve ever seen it.” He smiled at his son, beaming with pride and pure childish joy. “I had no idea it was supposed to play music. I’ve never heard it do that before.” Virgil’s eyebrows raised. “You did an amazing job, son. Thank you.”

#thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds fandom #thunderbirds #jeff tracy #virgil tracy #john tracy #scott tracy #young tracys #angry jeff #grief

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turkisherlockian · 3 years

Text

Five Years • One-Shot (Benedict Cumberbatch x Reader) [Part 1]

Summary: Y/N and Benedict have an argument and Benedict leaves. They do not see each other again until five years later, but the words that shouldn't have been said and the lies can't be taken back. And now it's time to tell the truth, Y/N was pregnant and Benedict had no idea.

Word count: 1829

Warnings: Angst, swearing, smut

A/N: Feedbacks are always appreciated and requests are open, though I can't promise that I'll write them quickly as my exams start in a month! However, I hope you enjoy this one ❤️

"It's my job, Ben! You're a professional, you know better!"

"You could have told me at least! I didn't want to see my girlfriend fucking that prick in front of EVERYONE!"

"You're exaggerating, Ben! I didn't cheat on you, I'm an actress!"

"Actress, my ass! You were only a crew member before you met me!"

I gasped, felt like I was going to choke.

"How dare you say that?! Wasn't that you who has 'seen talent in me' and forced me to continue to my acting career?"

"It seems I was wrong, a dog's cries could be more believeable!"

I was done. I couldn't stop my tears and tried not to sob in front of him. "Get out. Get the fuck out!"

He took his car keys and jacket, then left.

---

2 days later

"Sherlock star Benedict Cumberbatch was seen with a blonde woman at a pub in London. She covered her face with her bag and the couple avoided the papparazzi."

I broke down in my mother's arms, "He forgot me already, mum! It's been only 2 days and he has another girl! I thought he loved me! Was it all a lie?!"

She kissed my hair and held my face in her soft hands, "If he did, you're going to forget him as well. I can't believe that I thought he was a nice guy!"

I didn't say anything, I couldn't. Maybe I shouldn't have kicked him out, maybe I should have just... Apologised. Even though I was right. I still love him, oh God, I love him so much and it hurts to know that he did not. How could he just... Forget me in two days?

---

5 years later...

''Y/N L/N is back in front of cameras after 5 years. The actress remains still silent about why she quit acting after their break up with Benedict Cumberbatch and the thing is, they are in the same film now. The film is based on Machines Like Me by Ian McEwan. Well, now that they both are married and L/N has a daughter, we can not expect anything can we?''

Benedict threw the newspaper at somewhere in his trailer and sighed, leaning back on his bed. He was nervous. It has been 5 years since he last saw her or heard from her. They were childish in the beggining to never contact again and then... They got married.

He got up as his manager knocked the door, ''Benedict, she just arrived.. Thought you'd like to say hi.''

''I'll be there in five, thank you.''

He washed his face with cold water, and took a deep breath. Checking his phone, a sarcastic smile appeared on his face. He called her, his wife, for 8 times and the text he received said ''What???''

Just ignoring the text messsage, he put it back into his pocket and left his trailer.

And there she was.

Just like how she was 5 years ago. Only difference was her age, and oh... She had a ring on her finger. He knew it already, but it made him feel strange. He could be the one who married her, who became her baby's daddy. But now, he was struggling to keep his own marriage together with a woman who cheated on him...

The moment she turned towards him, when their eyes met they both were brought back to 5 years ago. All the good and bad memories they had, the way they seperated. And she smiled at him which woke him up out of the trance. ''Hey...''

He scratched his scalp, ''Hi...''

''It's been a long time.''

''Yes... How are you?''

''Oh come here, Ben...'' She knew what exactly was going on, and she waited enough to tell him that it was okay. She hugged him tightly and he hugged her back, not as tight as she did in fear of hurting her.

''I missed you.'' He said with a small smile, rubbing her arms. ''I missed you too.'' She touched his cheek, not really sure about what made her do that, but none of them found it weird. It was like seeing your best friend from high school years later.

''I know I'm a little late, shall we start practising?'' He nodded as they sat on the porch and started to do some script reading.

---

''...I don't care, Jess, I can wait for you forever.''

''But you shouldn't, you have to move on, Charles...'' A tear rolled down her cheek as she held his face in her hands. It reminded them of when he said a dog's cries could be more believable than her's. He took her hand into his and kissed her palm, ''No, my love... I can't.'' He cupped her face and kissed her without hesitation, like he has been waiting for this moment since years. She was frozen for a moment when she felt his lips on her's once again, and slightly moaned at the feeling. That was when he cried along with her, as he kissed her with more passion and now she was kissing him back. The kiss should've lasted shorter but the director didn't want to interrupt them because he knew what was going on and it was real.

They pulled back and looked into each other's eyes just like the script said, until the director ended shooting the scene. She pressed her lips in order to not cry and forced a small smile, then felt his hand rubbing her back to comfort her. He wasn't feeling as bad as she did, maybe it was because he didn't know the truth... Yet.

---

Everyone went to have dinner except Y/N. She just made an excuse and stayed in her trailer. Spent a few hours on her own, and cried a little bit. She was about to call her daughter when she heard a knock on the door.

Sniffing, she got up from the bed and opened the door... It was Benedict with a pizza box in his hands. ''I know you love pizza...''

She grinned, ''Come in.''

They both sat on the bed silently until she said ''Thank you for pizza, but I have eaten already. You can eat it if you want...''

''I have eaten as well.''

''Okay...''

''I'm sorry.''

She frowned, ''What for?''

''For everything I did earlier... I mean, years ago. It was so childish and a big mistake . I know I'm late but... I just wanted you to know that I am sorry, I truly am.''

''I'm sorry, too, Ben. We both were wrong... I should've told you.''

''And I should have not shouted at you like that and... Said very bad things.''

''You were right.''

''No, I wasn't! Y/N, you are an amazing actress and it haunts me every night that you quit acting because of me.''

She chuckled, ''I didn't quit acting because of you... It was because I had a baby.''

He sighed, ''I've heard that you did... How old is she now?''

That was the tricky question. Instead of simply telling him, she asked ''Would you like to see her?''

''Yeah, I would love to.''

She showed her daughter's photos from her phone, but something was wrong. She looked a lot like... Him. With ginger-ish hair and blue eyes, he couldn't help but think if she was his baby.

''She doesn't look like you.''

''Yeah... Like her fath--.''

''Can I see him as well?'' He asked harshly.

''I um... Deleted his photos because we are going to divorce.''

''Well, I'm sorry to hear that. How old is she, Y/N?''

Her eyes were welled up quickly and even before she could say something, he stood up and moved his fingers through his hair, trying to stay calm and not to make a mistake like he did years ago. Tears were forming in his eyes, she couldn't have done that could she?

''Y/N...'' He was hurt, he knew it, she was his baby. ''Tell me she isn't...''

''She is!'' She looked up at him, crying. ''She is your daughter, I--''

''For God's sake, Y/N, how could you hide it from me?! How did you do this to her?!''

''How did I do this to her? You could have known if you hadn't left!''

''You told me to FUCK OFF!''

''I DIDN'T KNOW I WAS PREGNANT BACK THEN AND YOU GOT MARRIED IN TWO MONTHS! DO YOU KNOW WHAT I'VE BEEN THROUGH? I NEVER STOPPED LOVING YOU AND I WAS CARRYING YOUR CHILD, OUR CHILD, AND YOU GOT MARRIED!'' She stood up as well and continued, ''WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO, BEN? I WAS ALONE, I WAS SCARED, I WAS YOUNG! AND I DIDN'T WANT TO BE A HOMEWRECKER!''

Tears were streaming down on both of their cheeks, whilst Y/N was revealing a secret no one knew except her so-called husband best friend and her mother. Benedict was shocked. He had a baby girl, he was a father.

''And if you had loved me, you wouldn't have had a girlfriend in two days.'' She sobbed and covered her face with her hands, ''I was furious, I was... God I was so stupid! Y/N, look at me...''

He pulled her hands down and held her face, "I never stopped loving you, either. I always regretted every single thing I did, I said but when I realized it all you were married...''

''I was married with Jason.''

''What? Jason?''

''Yes. Of course It was a fake marriage. We divorced after a short while...''

He was about to break down, ''Does she know who...''

''I promised her that she was going to meet her daddy when she grows up.''

''Oh God...'' He started to sob, and she hugged him tightly, ''I'm so sorry, Ben...''

He didn't say anything for a while and cried his eyes out into her chest , and then said ''I want to talk to her.''

She nodded and sniffled as a smile appeared on her face. She took her phone in her hands which were shaking, making a call through Skype. ''She's allowed to play on her iPad today, she should answer soon...''

Y/N looked at Benedict before pressing the call button. It ringed, and ringed, but she didn't pick up. ''She must be sleeping...''

''Mummy!''

''Lizzy...'' She tried not to cry as she spoke, ''What are you doing, baby?''

Benedict was amazed. Amazed by how beautiful his little girl was, how high pitched her voice was. He felt like he was done with living, and could die happily but not before breathing her soft curls' scent. His little baby... Lizzy.

''I just brushed my teeth, and wore my pyjamas.''

''I'm so proud of you...'' She said as she wiped her tears, ''I want you to meet someone.''

''Okay... Who is she?''

She giggled, ''It's not a she, darling...'' And she gave the phone to Benedict, his hands were shaking.

''Hello, Lizzy. My name is Benedict... I'm your daddy.''

---

Would love some feedback pls 🥺❤️ wanna read part 2? 🔥😈

#benedict cumberbatch x reader #benedict cumberbatch fanfiction #benedict cumberbatch smut #benedict cumberbatch oneshot #benedict cumberbatch #benedict cucumber #benedict cabbagepatch #marvel #ig #sherlock #maybe #dr strange #nothing else comes to my mind rn #pls stop reading

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lanuvolanera · 3 years

Text

Sept 19th - Cofession

Chapter 1

My first ever fanfic, lads, be nice and enjoy.

---------

Coming out of Casper High mid afternoon, Danny and Tucker made their way down the school steps. Students trickled out the front doors in small groups and split their own ways as the duo began their trek to Fenton works.

"Man, I'm glad Sam didn't come today." Danny said, grasping his backpack strap slung over his shoulder.

"I know, right? She would've been miserable." Tucker replied, pocketing his PDA with a light frown on his face.

The day went well. Steady, in fact. They seemed to have kept off of Dash's radar and stayed on Mr Lancer's good side with the English assignment. Not to mention that it was pizza day at the cafeteria, the only good thing that the cooks knew how to make. Yeah, today wasn't so bad, it just felt empty without Sam by their side.

"She should be feeling better by tomorrow, right?"

"Honestly, I think she'll take the rest of the week off. If it wasn't for that ghost..."

"Oh god, don't remind me, I still feel awful." Danny said with a look of mild horror, still traumatised from the night before.

A pause in their conversation prompted more memories from last night.

Phantom, two feet above the ground, felt paralysed as he looked on and watched as Tucker ducked undercover from the ectoblasts firing in all directions from what looked like a regular bedsheet type ghost, only this one was different, this one screeched and wailed and gnawed it's black teeth, blood dripping from its mouth, staining its torso.

"We'll give her a call tonight, see how she's doing." Tucker said, dragging Danny out of his thoughts.

"Or we could head over, see how she's doing in person?"

"Or we could leave her be and let her rest."

Danny didn't like that idea, he was worried and felt guilty and ashamed that he couldn't prevent her injury. As minor as it was, she couldn't find the strength to come to school the next day, when he'd hoped to apologise again and ask how she's doing again and to offer her anything she needs again. He made his mind up right then.

"I'll fly over tonight then, when everyone's gone to bed."

"Sure, don't forget to bring her homework and tell her you love her."

"What?" Danny gasped in shock, a deep red blush covering his cheeks.

"Nothing." Tucker looked away with a sheepish grin and quickly changed the topic.

"We still need to do some research about last night's ghost, I've downloaded some pdf's which I'll send to you and Sam to see if there are other ways to dispell it if the thermos didn't work."

They turn the corner and can see the large Fenton works sign in the distance, two blocks away.

"Race you." Danny smirked, and sprinted off before Tucker had a chance to realise what was happening.

With a loud "hey!" from Tucker in the background, Danny slowed as he neared the steps to his front door and tried the handle, locked. Hmm, his parents are out, Jazz would still be at school studying in the library, looks like he and Tucker have the house to themselves. Danny pulls out his keys and unlocks the door just as Tucker catches up out of breath.

"That's cheating, you had a head start." He pants.

"Come on, the computer in the lab is free, go down and fire it up while I get some coffee brewing."

"Sounds like a plan."

-------------‐-------------------------------------------------

Later that night, Danny flew Tucker back to his house.

They soared through the night sky, clear and full of stars, street lamps illuminating the buildings below them, his best friends arm slung over phantoms shoulders.

"Look, all I'm saying is if we go back tomorrow, what if we make things worse, pissed it off even more. If its trapped there like we think, what harm will it do if we leave it alone?"

"It's different though, what if when we found it there, we let it loose?"

"If we did then don't you think we would've seen it again by now?"

"I don't want to chance it, we need to find a way to deal with it permanently."

"Don't tell me you're going back there by yourself."

"No, I'm going to Sam's, like I said."

"You'd better."

-------------------------------------------------------------

Once he'd said his goodbyes to Tucker, and reassured him he wasn't going to do something wreckless, Danny took off into the air once more and set course for Sam's House.

With a backpack full with his thermos, his laptop, his phone, both his and Sam's maths homework, a couple of pens, pencils, markers and 2 cans of Sam's favorite soda, Danny sped across the rooftops when a blue puff of cold air burst it's way past his lips.

"Of course, I thought it was too quiet tonight."

Taking a quick glance of his surroundings, there was nothing to be seen in the empty streets. A brief pause, his breath held in his lungs, then glass crashing from a shop window a few blocks down caught Danny's attention.

Cackling laughter and bursts of light flashed from the window, Danny wasted no time reaching the building, turning himself intangible and flew through the ceiling.

"Oh, come on! What the hell are you doing here? In a pet store of all places?"

....

----------------------------------------------------------------

Danny finally arrived at his destination. Peaking through the window to find Sam laying on her bed, light from her laptop illuminating her face, in her black pyjamas and a cast on her leg.

He knocked on the glass, and smiled as Sam startled.

Waving him in, he floated through the glass and landed with a soft thump on the plush carpet, and settled on the edge of her bed.

"Hey, how're you feeling?" Danny said with concern in his voice.

"Fine. Hey, you need to sign my cast." Sam says with a playful smirk. Danny half expected her to be more upset about being injured, or at least, as upset as he is.

After the escape from the warehouse the night before, with Sam cradled in his arms and Tucker following not too far behind, all Danny could think was this was all his fault. Sam got injured because of him, because he was too late, too late to swoop in and protect her from the falling scaffolding from the ghost fight, that cost her her ability to run to safety. He's the hero, isn't he? And he couldn't save her from something as simple as falling debris? What kind of hero-

"Danny-"

Sam could see the distraught look on Danny's face and he caught himself looking down at her cast. It could've been a lot worse, but still.

Danny looks up at her, he needs to confess.

"I'm sorry, Sam, I'm sorry you got hurt, I should've been more careful-"

"Hey, don't worry about it, these things happen, right? It could've been a lot worse."

"I know, I keep telling myself that, but still-"

"But still, we need to figure out a way to get rid of that ghost, I've been doing some research on this specific type of ghost and I've read through the files Tucker sent me, and I think I have a good idea on what we're working with."

Sam brings the laptop closer and turns it around for Danny to see pages upon the screen filled with information from different historic and religious sites.

"Does it say anything about why the thermos didn't work?" He asked playfully. Of course, the Fenton thermos only being a recent invention, there wouldn't be any information that hasn't been put online by the Fentons themselves indicating its presence in the ghost hunting community across the globe. Sure, there have been other containment methods but for this particular ghost, the best method would be to remove it from this plane entirely instead of just bottling it up.

Other pages on the screen suggest cleansing treatments of the haunted area using a mixture of herbs, minerals and rituals, witchcraft. If that could work, maybe the Fentons have other means of ghost study to pursue, if they believed in that sort of thing, of course.

"Hoestly, this stuff is giving me a headache, I need a break."

"Good thing I have just what you need." Danny says, reaching for his backpack.

He pulls out his own laptop, the 2 cans of soda and their homework, which Sam gives a mild look of disgust.

"Great."

"You don't look at all enthused." Danny says with a cheeky smile, and pops open his can, passing the other one over to Sam who takes it gratefully.

A small awkward pause later and Sam has to snap Danny back to reality again.

"Look, I know you think this is your fault, so here's my obligatory I'm-not-a-damsel-in-distress talk, we're a team, we'll sort this out, and we can forget about it."

"It's not just that, I don't know, it's just that- I don't think I'll be able to forget about it. There's something about this ghost, it's terrifying." Danny says, setting his can aside.

"I know, ugly too." Sam smiles as Danny looks up, he remembers what Tucker said to him earlier.

Tell her you love her.

"I don't think I'd be able to live with myself if something happened to you, I couldn't imagine my life without you."

At this, Sam sits up and puts her can on her bedside table. They're face to face with each other now.

"I couldn't imagine my life without you either, and you're right, that ghost is terrifying, even more of a reason to fight it."

Tell her.

"This ghost fight seems to be putting things into perspective."

You love her.

"I know what you mean."

They don't know when they got closer, or when they started leaning in.

Danny lightly brushes his fingers across her cheek, tilting her head just so, and presses his lips to hers.

It's a little awkward at first, spending a few seconds in that position. Then someone, or maybe both, adjust their lips, and oh.

Oh wow.

The sensation is amazing, sparks running down their spines and they readjust again, and again.

Their arms begin to wrap around each other and oh god, they're actually making out, kissing. They don't even realise they've fallen onto their sides on the bed, eyes squeezed shut applying and reapplying firm presses of their lips together.

They stay that way for a few moments, or is it lifetimes, when a tune came from the bedside table.

They pull apart, dazed red faces inches from each other, before Sam sits up and grabs her phone.

"It's Tucker."

She answers.

"Hey, Sam, I know you're busy recovering and all and I know it's late but I think I have a lead."

"That's great, what've you got?"

"I've found a review online about a book at the town hall library, if we can get it checked out tomorrow we might be able to find a way to exorcise this ghost."

Sam and Danny look at each other with hope.

"What's the title?"

"Ghost hunting for dummies."

"Be serious."

"I'll make you laugh one day, I swear."

"Tucker."

"It's called 'witchcraft untold', there are only 2 copies in town, the other is at the 'Skulk and Lurke'. The review made it sound like a work of fiction, and maybe it is, who knows? But I think it's worth checking out."

Sam makes a mental note of the title. There are a few books she's planning on checking out, some including cultural and religious beliefs on the undead, magic and pagan rituals, and scientific findings surrounding ghosts. If this book Tucker mentioned is as promising as it sounds, things could be looking up.

"I've been meaning to go to the 'Skulk and Lurke' tomorrow anyway, so I'll keep an eye out for it."

"Thats great, we'll talk more later, get some rest."

" I will do, see you later, Tuck."

"See you, and say hi to Danny for me!"

Click.

They glance at each other, and Danny moves to stand up.

"I should get going, um..."

"Yeah, you're gonna need some rest too if we're gonna face this ghost tomorrow night."

"We?"

"Yeah?"

"No."

"What?"

Danny couldn't believe he had to say this.

"Sam, you're injured, there's no way I'm letting you come along..."

"You're not 'letting' me do anything, I'm going. We still need to figure out a plan before then anyway, when I get a chance to check out that book."

The air surrounding them starts to tense.

"How am I supposed to fight this ghost and protect you at the same time? Or have you already forgotten about last night?"

"Excuse me? Have you forgotten what I said only ten minutes ago? I'm not letting you go off and play hero all by yourself!"

"That is not-"

"Save it. I can take care of myself."

"Fine, I'll call you in the morning."

"Fine."

And with that, Danny turns towards the window and lifts off, phases through, and rises into the night sky.

#dp shiptember 2021 #danny phantom #sam manson #tucker foley #amethyst ocean

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amerrierworld · 3 years

Text

Tea, Mrs. Aird?

Carol (2015) fanfiction

request: “Carol Aird x Reader instead of Therese, reader sometimes babysits Rindy/fixed Carol’s car…”

Summary: Carol comes home early to you babysitting Rindy.

Characters: Carol x fem!reader, Rindy

Word Count: 1,654

Warnings: None! SFW :) This is pre-canon, with a slightly younger Rindy and no Therese but the same marriage-in-distress blonde we all love!

Carol was dropped off by a taxi at the mansion home late in the evening, her toes aching from her heels and her face hurting from the sick smiles she was forced to keep giving Harge and his parents over and over again. Jeanette made it a bit more bearable, chatting away to the blonde as if there was no tension between the married couple to be seen.

She tipped the driver and struggled to find her keys, cursing on the doorstep, chilled to the bone. Her hands shook with cold as she tried and failed to open the door, ready to smash her head into it when it suddenly creaked open.

“Mrs. Aird?” Your voice was timid, but your eyes were twinkling brightly. You were wrapped in a blanket over your shoulders that you no doubt snitched off of the living room sofa. Carol’s posture drooped a bit and she smiled tiredly at you.

Florence was on vacation, and though Carol had insisted she could stay home while Harge went to dinner to look after Rindy, he had retaliated and picked up the phone to call you, the babysitter, before any more arguments could have been made.

You stepped to the side, holding the door open so Carol could come in, blonde hair slowly falling from their curls.

“Where’s Mr. Aird?” you asked, noting how she came in alone. Carol sighed and forced a smile as she shook off her heels.

“Still at dinner. I wanted to come home early. Is Rindy in bed?” To be fair she had no idea if Harge would even come home tonight, though she didn’t let that get to her.

“She is. Fast asleep last I checked,” you answered.

“Damn,” Carol sighed. “I was very excited to say goodnight. I suppose that’s on me for coming this late after her bedtime.”

“You could probably pop in and give her a hug-,”

“No, no, I’ll let her sleep,” though her shoulders slumped, nonetheless.

“Would you like some tea? I just put the kettle on,” you asked, moving her shoes away from the doorway.

“Oh, you’re a sweetheart. I’d love some,” Carol said, smiling kindly. “I just need to hop in the shower quickly.”

“Of course,” you cleared your throat, flustered, but remaining as composed as possible.

Carol dragged herself upstairs and you went to make her a steaming cup of tea. Fingers brushing through your hair, you flattened out your dress to rid of the wrinkles.

A little bit of milk, and some sweet honey, and you had it ready. You knew the way Carol liked her tea, her coffee, her cutlery organised in the kitchen down to a t. You busied yourself cleaning the rest of the kitchen until you heard soft footsteps approaching you from behind.

Carol was in her bathrobe, hair damp, face fresh and calm, and your knees nearly buckled on the spot.

You passed her the mug carefully, fingers brushing. Carol leaned against the countertop and watched you as you kept tidying.

“You know you could leave that for Florence, right? You’re not in charge of every corner of the house. Only Rindy.”

You thought you were being reprimanded and you blushed, but when you met Carol’s gaze there was a teasing glimmer in her eyes and you smiled. “I just want it to be as spotless as can be. I don’t mind doing it, you know. It feels natural to do as part of my job.”

Carol hummed as she sipped her tea, “natural, you say.”

Her eyes gazed off into some far-away place. You knew the look; troubled and concerned, but you supressed the urge to ask and pry about it.

“Oh, goodness, look at the time,” Carol gasped. “I didn’t realize I had been that late. Or maybe I was in the bathroom too long.”

“You do enjoy luxuriously long showers,” you teased. Carol looked at you, her face unreadable. “From- from what I can tell.. Mrs. Aird.”

She smiled, just the barest hint of teeth showing, and you looked down, then glanced at the clock. “I should probably go. Technically my job was finished the moment you got back. I’m sorry for lingering.”

“No-, no no, you’re not lingering, darling,” Carol assured you, reaching across the countertop to gingerly grasp your hand. “I enjoy your company, really I do.”

“Well,” you muttered, feeling your cheeks heat up. Carol’s thumb swiped gently over your hand, and you hoped she wouldn’t feel your racing heartbeat.

As if on cue, a loud thunderclap from outside made you jump. Strong rain rumbled on the roof. Amidst the impromptu thunderstorm, Carol held your hand consistently, gripping your fingers as you both watched the wind and rain against the nearest window.

“Well,” Carol murmured, “you shan’t be leaving now, darling. No cab is going to come out here at this time now with this storm. Stay the night.”

She stated it so matter of factly, as if there wasn’t any other option. You opened your mouth to object, again, but something came bounding down the stairs before either of you said anything.

Carol’s hand slipped away from yours, and you mourned the loss of the warmth as Rindy ran into the kitchen, whimpering and latching onto her mother’s bathrobe. The three year old began blabbering about the scary noises from outside and Carol lifted her onto her hip, hushing and cooing her soothingly.

“Could you make her some warm milk, please?” Carol said to you softly before walking back up the stairs with her daughter in her arms.

You came to Carol’s bedroom with a warm bottle of milk and Carol’s mug in hand, which you had topped up with a bit more hot tea. You waited a moment, watching Carol as she soothed and spoke to her daughter, holding her small hands and brushing her hair away from her face. She was sitting cuddled in her mother’s lap on the big bed, nearly drowning in the massive duvet and blankets.

When she noticed you in the doorway Carol beckoned you in, and helped Rindy take a few sips. Once finished, you took the bottle from the toddler and handed Carol her tea.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have,” she whispered. You limply shrugged a shoulder and tentatively sat on the edge of the bed, holding one of Rindy’s small hands as she fell asleep.

Once Rindy was fully asleep, Carol reached a hand out to you to tap on your shoulder, nodding her head to the door to indicate you both should shuffle out quietly.

“Well, I suppose my bed’s been taken for the night,” Carol quipped, tightening her robe’s belt.

“Oh, then take the guest room! I don't mind sleeping on the couch, really, it’s a nice couch,” you added.

“Nonsense, whatever gave you that idea? Come on, the bed’s big enough for both of us.”

“But, Mrs. Aird-,”

“It’s just Carol, remember?” she said, eyes shining. “Come along.”

And that was how you ended up in the surprisingly spacious guest bed with Carol by your side, wearing an old pyjama set of hers, tucked under the heavy blankets.

“What if Mr. Aird comes home when we’re sleeping?” you asked, softly. Carol was scribbling a note down to remember to call Abby tomorrow that she set on her nightstand.

“Oh, he won’t be coming home tonight, Y/N,” she said airily.

You blinked in surprised, quieted by the truthfulness of her voice and the implication of the statement.

“We got in a row at the party,” she admitted, avoiding your gaze as she fluffed her pillow. “He’s either at his parents’ or staying at Cy and Jeanette’s. Not that I mind.”

“I’m very sorry, Mrs. Ai-, Carol, I mean.”

“Don’t be,” she sighed, turning to look at you. “There’s nothing to be done about it. I’m happy you’re here instead. At least I don’t want to rip my hair out around you.”

“I’m happy too. Thank you for letting me stay.”

“How many times must I tell you, it really is no bother at all. Sleep now, you insufferable thing,” Carol laughed, running a warm hand through your hair.

You couldn’t remember when you fell asleep, only that some time in the night Rindy had woken and climbed in your bed despite your best efforts to get her back to sleep. Carol had grunted in surprise, half-asleep, before pulling Rindy and then you close to her, making a cozy cuddle pile in the bed. You fell asleep once again to the feeling of Carol’s warm hands holding you close, and this time with an additional Rindy snuggling closely against you, content, unbothered, and delightfully relaxed.

#carol #carol aird #carol movie #carol fanfiction #carol (2015)#rindy #cate blanchett #carol x you #carol x reader #carol/reader #carol/you #carolxyou #carolxreader #wlw #lgbt #merry writes

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writingsbychlo · 4 years

Text

put her together again (05)

word count; 6603

summary; mitch takes you out on a little excursion upon your request, before making a not so pleasant discovery upon return to your home.

notes; just cute. that’s it. enjoy that, before it all goes shit.

warnings; none!

Despite Irene’s warnings to stay away, and her instructions to let you develop in your own home, Mitch just couldn't find it within himself to stay away.

He missed you, he missed having company, and he’d ended up spending more than half of his time with you, or at least, that was how it seemed, as he became quickly familiar with how it felt to sleep on your couch, which was surprisingly more comfortable than his own. He wasn’t blind to the fact that you had been given an apartment that very purposefully didn’t have a guest room, discouraging him from wanting to stay, but he was used to tough-living on assignments, and as long as he wasn’t sleeping on the floor, a couch seemed like a dream.

A blanket and a pillow from the storage cupboard had found a new home with permanent placement on the shelf under the coffee table, so on every night that he chose to stay over, there was easy access to what he needed. You had out sorted the clothing the had gifted to you into a new drawer, so that he always knew how to get to it when he needed a change of clothes the following morning, and he hadn't missed the level of trust that had been rolled out to him about being given access to your bedroom to get to it.

That was your private space, that was somewhere that only the people that were most important to you should be allowed to enter, those whom you trusted with your life, and you’d granted that to him, and while you hadn't said the words, he didn’t miss their meaning.

Mitch had also put a great effort into encouraging you to go out in public, and learn where you were. While not being as fond of the idea of you wandering around on your own while everything was still a risk, he was aware that it was a witness protection area, and that you were still going to be safe going out and about here, and it did bring him a little reassurance when he was at his own home, and thinking about what you might be up to.

You now had a gym membership, no longer having to work out at home, and you’d never been exposed to such equipment and that kind of environment, and the look of pure joyous shock that had been on your face had lived in the front of his mind for over a week, a smile on his face anytime he thought about yours. Occasionally, he ventured out to the spot with you, he wasn’t much of a fan of traditional workouts, or of doing it in front of other people, but you were thriving in that environment, and he was willing to make the sacrifice just to spend time with you.

As much as he ever hated to admit that Irene was right about something, she hadn't been wrong in her conclusion here.

Her claims that putting you alone and letting you flourish as your own being, developing your ideas and your personality, you really were breaking out of your shell. For as much progress as you’d made living with him, you were reaping that in tenfold here. You had a favourite spot in the little coffee shop, and the servers called you a regular, knowing your order by heart anytime you came through the door, the little bell overhead jingling. You had ventured as far as the row of old-style looking buildings on a little corner off of the high street, and he had noticed that sometimes your fingers had paint stains on and smears across your clothes when he arrived without warning, catching the canvases of all shapes and sizes stacked in your closet and the corners of your rooms.

They reflected your moods, that much he could tell. Some were bright explosions of colours, yellows and greens and pale blue, everything joyous and fun and he liked those ones the most, always on bigger canvases as you illustrated your feelings.

Some were darker, swirls of navy and purples, slightly wonky, done in the morning light after you woke up from nightmares on the days he wasn’t just a few metres away to hold you and soothe you through the anxiety until the sun finished rising and took it all away.

He didn’t like the others, the ones that were blacks and greys, mixed with splatters of reds, and he didn’t know what prompted them, he didn’t know when you painted those ones or why, but when he looked closely enough he could see the circular stains on the canvases from dropped tears that distorted the paints. There were no shapes on those ones, just drags of brushes in frantic and erratic directions, nothing that gave you any reassurance or made sense, it was a mess that you just splayed over the surface until the white material was replaced with layers of dark oil paints to express your pain.

Painting was the best way you knew how to get out the feelings you had inside that you didn’t know how to process, something he’d learned had been introduced to you by your therapist, expanding on the simple drawings he’d had you doing while living with him.

You were making friends, sometimes you came home with a receipt from the coffee shop with two drinks, someone at the gym who you’d been spotting on the weights and going for a drink afterwards, or befriending the older lady who worked on putting books back in the library. You’d met a couple in your therapy waiting room, two men who were there for marriage counselling, and they had begun to go for lunch with you every Saturday at the local café after your sessions.

He was happy for you, he truly was, listening to you talk to him about how people at the gym had begun to ask you for advice on their workouts, and the manager had even offered you a job as a personal trainer - one that you’d refused, not quite ready for that yet - but you were still happy just to be having other people to talk to. People who didn’t want anything from you, people had had no ulterior motives in being with you other than friendship, and that was definitely something that you deserved from the world, after everything you had been put through.

That was exactly how Mitch had found himself here, stirring his coffee slowly as he watched you buzz around your kitchen, teaspoon clinking against the edge of the mug as steam curled up into the air. You were making breakfast, sleep still crawling at your features, but you were now making double the quantities you had been planning on, his arrival unexpected but you never turned him away when he knocked at your door.

There was bacon and eggs, he could smell it on the air, his stomach rumbling happily, and he was sure that he looked just as sleep-mussed as you did, he’d barely pulled on his shoes, not even bothering to change out of his pyjamas when he’d woken this morning, just wanting to get on the road and on his way to visit you.

You were spinning the tale to him all about the group therapy session you’d had, giggling as you spoke about Edith, who had an incredible dark-humour, anger issues and a God complex, and always made you laugh when you saw her. Mitch was grinning as he raised his brows a little, bringing the edge of his cup to his lips to hide his expression.

“Are you sure you should be telling me all these juicy details about your friends?”

You shrugged, turning to grin at him over your shoulder as you plated up the breakfast foods, and he almost groaned at the sights of it, stomach clenching angrily with hunger, before you were passing it over to him. Eggs, bacon, pancakes; he felt like he was in heaven, loving getting to know another person in this kind of intimate way, missing having someone to share the lazy mornings with before exhaustions had fully left his mind and he was still a little hazy in his post-sleep state. “Who else am I supposed to tell it to?”

“Fair point.” He sighed, taking the plate with a mumbled ‘thank you’ before he was grabbing for his cutlery, watching as you took the seat across from him and dug into your own food.

“Besides, Mary from the library is lovely but she can't keep a secret for anything, and Elliot and Greg love to gossip, it’s how I find out half of my gossip, and the gym is where I find out pretty much all of the other half, so I can’t tell them, because they’re who I’m gossiping about!” You grinned, dragging a piece of bacon and pancake from your fork with your teeth, and chewing happily, and Mitch simply rolled his eyes in response, but couldn't stop the curl of his lips into a smile.

“So, I’m just your Pandora’s Box of therapy tales and gym gossip about your friends?”

“Yes.” You smirked, watching as he gasped in fake offence, and he didn’t even both to cut any of his bacon, trying to force the entire strip into his mouth at once, and a droplet of grease gathered at the corner of his mouth, prompting him to lick it away as you scowled at his gross behaviour. “Despite that undignified display, you’re also my best friend. For whatever reason.”

“Does that mean you don’t gossip about me, then?”

“I would never!” It was your turn to mock him, and he grinned cheesily, repeating the action with the next piece of meat, and you groaned, tearing your eyes away from him and fixing them on your plate as you made a show of neatly cutting your food into pieces to eat. “So, are you busy today?”

“That depends on what you have planned. I’m not going to look at curtains with you again, I can still feel that old lady’s fingers on my ass.”

You snorted, almost choking on your food as you remembered the day he’d had his ass pinched by a rambunctious old woman in the curtains store, and he glanced across the room, looking at the hanging drapes he’d helped install, the entire memory tainted with that of the startling encounter. You were still snickering into your meal, smiling with every bite you took, and sipping at your coffee, the suspense killing him.

“C’mon, out with it. What kind of crap are you going to drag me through today?”

“Well, not today, technically. I was thinking more tonight.” He hummed, prompting you to go on with what you had to say, and the scraping of metal on ceramic was filling the silence as he waited for you. “Will you take me to this little jazz bar I saw?”

“A jazz bar?”

You were a little more timid now, eyes fixed on your food as you became embarrassed of your request, and he didn’t want you to feel like that, not with him. He just couldn't quite fathom why you’d want to go to a jazz bar of all places, but he was willing to do so if it made you happy.

“Sure, but if we’re going to a jazz bar then I want the full experience. I’ll be drinking aged whiskey from a tumbler with one of those balls of ice in it, and I’ll be hungover. I’m crashing on your couch, and you have to cook breakfast again in the morning.” He raised his brows at you, watching as you perked back up, nodding happily and motioning over your shoulder to the fridge.

“I have those sausages that you like.”

“Then it’s a deal.”

You cheered happily, whooping to yourself, before a comfortable quiet took over the room and you were left to finish your meals while simply soaking up the comfort of being together. There was no plan for the rest of the day, but after a few showers, and cleaning up the kitchen together, a vague plan to run some errands had been formed. You’d offered him the chance to go home several times, and yet he always refused, just as happy to wander the library with you and put back your books as he was to grab coffee with you, and go to the store to pick up a week’s worth of groceries.

If he was there when you went shopping, he got a say on the things you bought, and then he knew what there was for the days he came over to have a meal with you.

After cleaning up, on your way out, you had swung by his place, changing into something more suitable for a day of chores with you, and letting you sit in the car and flick through the music CD’s he had laying around on the backseat, bringing a blazer back out with him and a bag of things he’d need for his overnight stay, before the two of you had been off and on your way. As decided, you’d gone to the library first, a pile of books in your arms as you pushed the door open with your back, greeting the woman behind the desk and checking your books back in, dropping the stack into the returns, before making your way through the aisles.

His arms had been loaded with books, holding them all for you as you climbed up and down the steps and stools to reach the high shelves trailing from one end of the building to the other, and up and down the stairs, as this time, you curated a collection of everything from a space-travel fantasy book to a non-fiction about lions and their hunting patterns.

You had shown him your coffee joint, one you’d taken him to a few times before, but had redecorated since he’d last been, and was promoting a new set of special blends on the chalkboard menu outside, and so the two of you had ordered a small-sized version of each one, sharing them amongst yourselves as you judged the options before you. Your favourite had been the roasted hazelnut americano, while his had been the caramel macchiato with marshmallow essence, his sweet tooth shining through.

Following that, he’d taken you to the store, pushing the cart around and bumping you with it when you took too long for his liking to compare certain products, and as punishment, he’d been forced to help you unpack all the purchases, hiding away the treats he’d slipped into the basket in the backs of your cupboards and in the drawers of the coffee table that you never went into. By the time dusk had rolled around, he was pulling his blazer up his arms, a mix between smart and casual that was appropriate for the journey, skinny jeans and a henley not being fitting alone for the place you were travelling to, and he was staring up at the ceiling as he waited for you to be done.

“You ready?”

He chuffed, a snippy comment on the tip of his tongue about how it had been you that had decided you wanted to shower before going out, despite being perfectly clean, but his mouth went a little dry as he sat up, eyes widening. “Where did you get that dress?”

You looked down at yourself then, your hands clasping in front of yourself nervously after smoothing down the skirt. Dark blue, a shade that complimented you beautifully, lace along the arms and up to your neck, in what was a mock turtleneck, flaring out at the waist in a loose skirt, and it was most definitely a cocktail dress, not exactly the kind of thing he’d expect Irene would have bought for you. “My friend gave it to me. We were challenged at therapy to clear out things that reminded us of a bad time, and to give them to someone else, to make something bad into something good again.”

“That’s sweet.” He caught his breath, eyes scanning along you once again, your legs bare, and he smirked a little bit as he watched you match the elegance with a pair of sneakers, making the whole outfit seem much more fitting to you. “What did you take?”

“I didn’t really have anything, but I took one of my paintings - y’know the one with the blue and the green? That one. - and gave it to one of the people I didn’t know, but they wanted to put it up on the wall in their restaurant.”

He just nodded, licking over his lips as you reached for your coat, folding it over your arms, and he shook his head, letting out a sound to dissuade you from that course of action. “No, sweetheart, you can’t put a coat over a dress like that.” You raised your brows, before shrugging it off and following his lead, hanging it back up on the coat hooks, and he searched for your keys, tucking them into his pocket. “Besides, I told you this would be the full experience, and how am I supposed to be a gentleman and give you my jacket when you get cold if you have a coat?”

You simply grinned at him, holding the front door open and switching on the latch as the two of you left, heading towards the elevator and surrounded by soft laughs. “You’re a dork.”

“Big words from the girl who rented ten books for one weeks worth of reading.”

You gasped, turning to shoot him a little glare, but he just beamed, letting you guide him in the direction of your location for the evening. It was only a short walk, just around the corner from your building, but he could hear the music coming out all the way from a street over, lights and noise spilling from the hole-in-the-wall establishment as the two of you approached.

It was even louder inside, the sounds of trumpets and guitars sounding out, and it was mellowed out inside, low lights and leather booths with round tables in solid oak with old and chipping wood, the smell of candles and smoke hanging on the air with liquor, and it was exactly what he expected it to be. The aesthetic matched all the scenes that he had laid out in his head, what he figured a jazz bar would look like, and raucous clapping took up as the live band finished and the current song ended, a man was taking a seat at the sleek black piano in the middle of the room to keep the music going as the acts changed over.

“Drinks first, right?”

“Are you allowed to drink?” Your face screwed up for a second, before you were shaking your head, and he dropped an arm to loop around your waist, guiding you towards the bar and making sure that you kept close to him in the bustling crowds. “Well, when you’re all cleared for it, I’ll take you out for a real drink, okay?”

“Sounds good.”

“I’m still drinking though.” He flagged down the bartender, a whiskey for himself and a soda for you, ice clinking against the glasses as they were served to you. A short and stocky glass was slid over the wooden counter towards you both, followed by a taller one, fizzing and bubbling with pop as ice swirled in the liquids, and you picked it up, bringing the straw to your mouth to take a sip. “Let’s find a booth.”

There was one in the far corner, just evacuated by the previous inhabitants, and you were quick to slide into the seat, Mitch taking the opposite one, and he didn’t miss the dirty looks that were being shot your way from another pair across the room who had clearly also been intending to claim this seat as their own, but he decided that the pair of you deserved it more, so he had no guilt as he ignored them.

A new band was taking up on the stage, setting themselves up and adjusting the microphone, a woman wearing a floor-length ball gown covered in sparkles and sequins, red painted lips and neatly pinned up hair was taking a seat on a wooden stool at the front of the stage, and waiting as her bandmates all got set up.

“She looks great.” You were in awe, he could read it clearly on your face, and he couldn't help the smile he got as he watched you admire her, before your eyes were moving to scan over everybody else in the room, and he took a sip of his drink, heat flaring on his cheeks when he cleared his throat, forcing you to stop watching everyone else.

“You know, you look beautiful, too.”

You scoffed under your breath, but smiled, your head ducking as you reached for your glass to busy your idle fingers instead, and he reached his hand out over the surface, palm up in offering. His breath was held, only released with relief when you slipped your hand into his, holding on gently, and he grinned to himself, hiding it behind the rim of his glass. “I never said beautiful.”

“Maybe not, but I did.” He wasn’t sure where the words were coming from, it was a part of his personality that he was sure he’d lost a long time ago, but the squeeze of your hand in his with silent acknowledgement made his hand tighten around yours, and you fell back into a companionable silence together. “You wouldn’t look like you if you tried to be like them. I like who you are now.”

“I don’t even know who I am, Mitch. Not really, anyway.”

“Maybe not fully, but there’s a lot that makes you special, already.” You looked up at him now, meeting his eye and holding it, before you were standing up, rounding to his side of the booth and taking a seat beside him instead. Lifting his arm, he wrapped it over your shoulders, letting you curl into his side as you faced the stage, but he felt the hand dangling over your shoulder warm, the curling of your fingers around his once again making his nerves tingle as adrenaline rushed through his body, and he pulled you in a little closer. The lights began dimming, a spotlight taking up on the centre stage once again, and he could feel you tense up with excitement for it all. “Show’s starting, sweetheart. Are you excited?”

You only hummed, twisting into him a little bit, before even the messing of your fingers with his own stopped, and you were fixing every bit of your attention onto the stage.

Her voice was beautiful, one deep breath carrying the words as she sang out steadily, the instruments fading into the tune as it progressed. It had been her and her only singing to start, before the piano had come in slowly, picking up speed when a steady drumbeat joined it, and then came the chorus. It was catchy and upbeat, a difference from the beginning of the song, cheerful melodies made by trumpets and saxophones, and then the band came in to perform back up singing.

The bass was vibrating through the wooden floors, the feeling replicating that of nerves and butterflies curling in his stomach but in the best of ways, and Mitch was tapping his foot on the floor as the music played, unable to resist the urge. The crowds were cheering now, the peak of the song approaching, claps sounding out loudly, and he almost missed the soft giggle you let out as you took in the atmosphere, before your hand was leaving his, and you were clapping too.

This went on, for what felt like mere minutes but was hours by the time he noticed your excitement dwindling as you slumped into his body. You were tired now, your head lolling on his shoulder a little, and one peek through the windows showed him that the twilight you’d arrived in had faded out into the night, dark and glittering with stars, and once the current song ended, he nudged you up a little.

You sighed, before shaking your head clear, sitting up yourself from where you’d been lounging with him, and all of those patches felt a little cold as you moved away from him, so used to having you pressed up to him now, and providing him with your warmth.

“Ready to go?”

You only nodded, wiping at your eyes a little bit before getting to your feet, a little shaky in your exhaustion, and he followed after you, several empty glasses sitting on the table as the warm buzz of alcohol coursed through his veins, the two of you navigating through the crowds carefully, his hand sitting on your lower back until you were reaching the doorway, gasps of fresh air as you made it back out onto the streets.

You tugged a little on his sleeve, the two of you falling into step in the direction of your apartment.

“I hope you plan to make good on that promise to give me your jacket.”

He beamed at you, shrugging it down his arms and ignoring the chill he got, before tucking it over your shoulders delicately. Your hand found his, your fingertips tickling so lightly across his palm he had to resist the urge to flinch, but then you were weaving your fingers with his, holding his hand and he wrapped his digits around you just as tightly. “Did you have fun?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t want to go back.” He turned to look at you, your cheek pressing to his shoulder as you slipped somewhere between conscious and unconscious. “It was fun but it seems like it’d be a little boring after this. You have to do everything once, though, right?”

“I guess so, sweetheart.” You were so positive and optimistic, you had a sunny outlook on everything, a real feat for someone who came from your past, who was still in their first year of recovery from a lifetime of pain and trauma, and he was so proud of you for all the progress that you’d made. You were healing yourself, and he knew you were healing him, too. “Do you want to go and get some food? You must be hungry, you haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“I can’t,” you whispered the words, letting him wrap his arm around you instead, keeping your hands locked but it made it easier for him to guide you along as your tired feet began to drag along the floor. “I have a session in the morning.”

Mitch frowned, he was certain you’d already had your therapy this week, because you’d been telling him all about it over breakfast, and you hadn't told him about getting any more assigned sessions, but maybe that was why you’d been making such good progress. “I’ll make you coffee in the morning. C’mon, I know a diner with some great food that you’d love.” He grinned, squeezing you tightly and raising his other hand to tickle at your side.

You grinned, huffing out a laugh, before shaking your head at him. “No food! Unit eight will not be at optimal performance efficiency without seven hours of rest per night.”

Just like that, the haze that had been your walk home was washed away, like ice water had been thrown over his head and his stomach clenched up angrily in a way that made him feel sick. You whined as he came to a full stop, his body rigid in his movements, and you raised your head to look at him, the awning of your building hanging overhead as you stood just outside of the doorway, but he couldn't help but stare at you, knowing that horror was flashing over his features.

“What?” You were looking at him now, curious with wide eyes, coming back to your senses as his abrupt halt had forced you to wake up a little more, and you were blinking at him, worry beginning to seep into your features. “Mitch, what’s wrong?”

“You don’t even know what you just said, do you?”

“Uh..” You thought on it, brows furrowing and shrugging your shoulders. “Not really, just something about how I need to get a good night’s sleep, I think.”

He shook his head, pulling you closer into his body as your hands were crushed between your bodies, resting on his chest as he pulled you close, and guided you through the door, a walk that was almost a shuffle as you went along, side by side. “You called yourself.. by your old title.”

It took you a minute to realise what you’d said, before you were paling a little, a look just as distraught as he’d felt flashing over your face. “You know, you’ve been making so much progress forwards, and I’ve seen you tired before, this has never happened. What’s going on?”

You looked up at him and shrugged, moving away to avoid his gaze and open your front door. The second the two of you were inside, you were kicking off your shoes hastily and leaving them in the middle of the floor, making your way to the kitchen to get away from him, and he could hear you filling up the kettle. He put your shoes and his on the shelf they belonged on, finding his blazer slung neatly over the back of the couch, and he came into the kitchen quietly, not wanting to startle you, and took a seat at the kitchen table.

His eyes flickered over the room, watching you move in your own space easily and swiftly, pulling two mugs from the cupboard. You dropped a tea bag into each, a scoop of honey following, and steam was beginning to leave the kettle as the water approached being ready. As the cutlery drawer slid closed, he saw it, he realised what was off. Your schedule was turned around, the blank paper facing upwards from the chart he’d seen you replicate and helped you make, the activities now facing inwards.

He was on his feet before he could stop himself, taking off the magnet that had pinned it up, and twisting the sheet to face himself. The first thing that immediately jumped out was that you’d managed to progress from a daily chart that repeated every day, to a weekly one, the hours down the side being replaced with days of the week.

His eyes immediately picked out the things that were expected, ‘trip to the library’, ‘grocery shopping’ and ‘dinner with Mitch’, smiley faces drawn beside them, and his lips flicked up at the corners. ‘Physical activity’ had been replaced with the word ‘gym’, and his suspicions were confirmed, the word ‘therapy’ being scrawled across the empty spots on a Tuesday, definitely not today. Then, he was studying the other things, grunting as his brows furrowed.

‘Hypno with Irene’.

He looked up, finding you already facing him, leaning against the counter and staring into your drink, a frown on your face. You were clutching the mug with both hands, a sigh leaving you as he inched a little closer. It was on there three times, on Mondays, Thursdays and Saturdays, definitely a new addition because the ink colour was different to the rest, and it looked fresher, like it had only been added a month or so ago.

“Does ‘hypno’ mean hypnotherapy?”

“Yes.” Your words were weak, and he let a little growl out, putting the paper back on the fridge and pinning the magnet over it, a little more aggression behind his actions that and you flinch, and he would’ve acknowledged his guilt from the action if it hadn't been for the anger clouding his mind.

He patted his pockets down for his phone, finding it tucked away, and you watched him move, he could feel your stare lingering on him as he walked away towards the door, already pushing his thumb into the contact card on the screen, and he could hear it calling as he lifted it to his ear. The second he had, he was slamming the door shut behind himself, trying to take a deep breath to calm himself down, but the feeling of rage bubbled back up as he heard the line go through.

“Do you not know what time it is, Rapp?”

“You’re taking her to fucking hypnotherapy? You’re digging around in her mind, before she even knows how to control what she gets back?” He was seething, fingers gripping his phone so tightly he worried that it might crack by his ear. “Are you fucking insane?”

“It would do you well to curb your tone, agent. Remember who you work for.”

Her tone had somehow managed to get even colder, and he knew she was right, so he bit down on his lip so aggressively that the taste of copper trickled over his tongue. “She isn’t ready for that yet.”

“That isn’t your call to make.”

“Maybe not, but there’s a pair of eyes in my fucking skull, and I can see that she’s still piecing herself back together.” It was taking everything he had to hold his tone steady and stop from shouting again, and he stopped his pacing, leaning back against the wall and working through his body methodically to try and ease his own tension.

“She is the only lead we have on taking down an organization that has been doing this for decades. She is the key, and she’s been giving us more information in the last month than we have gained in at least thirty years.”

“You’re going to break her.” His voice cracked then, and just like that, there wasn’t any more clenched muscles or balled up fists anymore, there was just the exhaustion and ache in his body, and he felt like he might collapse to the floor if it wasn’t for the wall holding him up. “You’re going to ruin her.”

“I’m taking all the necessary precautions, Mitch.”

Even Irene had eased up, and while he wouldn’t exactly call her tone soft, he certainly knew there was less venom and aggression behind it now.

“She is making excellent progress, and we didn’t dive right in at the deep end. We worked it up, but there’s a point she can’t get past. She locks up, we just need her to break through it and we will have everything we need.”

“What point?” Mitch wasn’t sure he actually wanted the answer to this, but he needed to know, to be able to help you or stop it, he just needed to be aware of what you were facing so that you didn’t have to handle it alone.

“She tried to run when she was younger, and she made it out. If she can tell us what she saw, we can track it down. But, she stops as she approaches the door, her mind won’t let her get any further than that.”

“I want to come along. Tomorrow. I’m going to be there.” The hesitation from his boss was evident, a deep sigh, and the shuffling of some papers, and he knew that no matter how late the hour was, Irene was at home doing work anyway.

“Fine. Eight sharp, at her apartment. If you’re late, we’re leaving without you.”

He smirked, glancing up at your door, but not letting on that he was already here with you, the line clicking off before he even had a chance to thank her, and his eyes rolled involuntarily at her actions, but he wasn’t at all surprised. The screen went black when he pulled it from his ear, and Mitch dragged a hand over his face, tucking the device into his pocket and opening the door up again, shutting it softly behind himself now instead of slamming it like he had done before.

Your head snapped up to him, eyes wide as you saw him come back in, and you were on your feet to meet him from the second he’d entered the room. “You came back.”

“Where did you think I was going?” His brows furrowed, your arms wrapping around yourself as he watched you, your mug almost empty, but he noticed his was now sitting face down in the sink, tipped away as you presumed him to have left.

“I thought you were angry with me, and that you went home.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” He was padding across the room and cupping your face in two large hands before he’d even had to think about it, thumbs running over your cheekbones and you stared up at him through wide and glossy eyes. “I’m not mad at you, I promise. I’m mad at Irene, and the world, but I’m not mad at you.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” He leaned in, pressing a long and slow kiss to your forehead, feeling you press back into the touch, and he grinned at the little noise you let out, sagging into his body as your arms circled his waist. He had enough space to pull away, peppering your cheeks and temples with little kisses too, until you were giggling under his hold, face screwing up, and he let you go, your face wiping against your shoulder as he watched you through his own entertainment. “Why didn’t you tell me, though?”

“Irene said it would make you upset, and I don’t want you to be upset with me.”

“I’m not upset with you, I’m just upset for you. I don’t want you to have to suffer anymore.” He sighed, trying to catch your gaze, and using two fingers to tip your chin up to find his sights. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. It isn’t fun, but Irene says it’s helping people. People like me, and I can save them. I have to save them, Mitch, like you saved me.” He smiled then, watching as you lit up enthusiastically, and while it was taking a toll on you, he could sense how much you cared, and he couldn't take that away from you.

“I’m going to come with you, tomorrow.”

You grinned, leaning in enough to bump your forehead to his cheek, and you nodded against him, squeezing him tightly within your arms. When you backed away, there was a glint in your eyes, and you backed off enough to shuffle through your cupboards, pulling out a bag of dried pastas, and presenting the half-empty bag to him. “I learned how to make mac and cheese the other week, it makes me feel better after therapy, and you look like you could use a cheer up. You want some?”

“I thought you wanted to go to sleep?” He pressed, and you raised a single shoulder, dropping it back down, before turning to find a pan.

“You’re worth staying up for.”

Then, yes, I’d love some.” He was taking a seat at the table once again, and you hummed, beginning to serve up a portion for you both, fishing around in the fridge to gather all of the ingredients.

He couldn't pretend that he wasn’t nervous, or that the idea of seeing you in that state didn’t frighten him, but he knew that he had to be there for you, to help you and protect you when you were vulnerable, and so everything else slipped away.

#mitchtober #mitch-tober #mitch month #PHTA #put her together again #Mitch Rapp #mitch rapp x reader #mitch rapp/reader #mitch rapp american assassin #dylan obrien american assassin #dylan obrien mitch rapp #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader

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siriuslyshewrote · 4 years

Text

Gotta Be A Reason - Shelby!Sister

Summary : Finn and Y/N have been drifting apart for a while, but a storm may help them reconcile.

Requested? Yes

1927 - February - Aged 18

The storm raged outside the Shelby house, rain pelting against the windows like tapping fingers, thunder rumbling so loudly it was deafening, lightning occasionally brightening the room through the thin lace curtains. The inside of the house was quiet, nearly all of its residents fast asleep, most of the Shelby siblings and their aunt able to sleep like the dead, even with the cacophony of noise outside.

You weren't, however, your hands, white knuckles showing through skin, clutching the quilt tightly around you in an almost cocoon, a way to block in the sounds of your sobs. Your forehead was damp, though you couldn't tell if it was from the tears, or the sweat that covered you on nights like these.

The nightmares had always plagued you, in different forms, ever since you were a tiny child. When you were younger, Polly had taken you to a variety of people to try and figure it out, but no one ever could, and after a while, you started to refuse to go with her, accepting that this was something you just had to deal with. When your father lived with you, the dreams were of his yells, the tiny cupboard that John often put the three of you - yourself, Finn, and Ada - in, when yelling turned into smashing furniture, then into worse things. During the war, there was gunshots and mud, and John and Tommy and Arthur, all dying in some horrific way. Afterwards, it was blood on the pavement, razor blades in caps, split knuckles, yells, and worst of all, the members of your family getting killed.

Now, it was similar dreams each night. They all ended the same way, John, bleeding, shot, on the pavement outside his own home. The blank glassy stare, the slightly open mouth that never would, and never could, make a joke again. Most nights you woke up screaming, Polly rushing into your room, wrapping her arms around you, hugging you tightly, saying nothing, because she knew no words would comfort you now. She held you until she thought you fell asleep, and then left the room quietly. You never fell back asleep. How could you?

You sniffed quietly, fingers brushing away the cold tears, the cold sweat on your forehead, pushing yourself into a sitting position, arms wrapping around your legs. Your eyes looked over at the other empty bed in the room, once slept in by your older sister, before she had moved to London. The photos of her favourite actors and actresses were still pinned above her bed, cut out from programmes and magazines, some of the teenage love letters still stuffed under the mattress, Henry, the bedraggled teddy she'd inherited off Tommy, slumped against the pillow, one eye missing, due to an unfortunate argument with John.

A few years ago, if you had nightmares, Ada, you, and Finn would crowd into that uncomfortable single bed with the lumpy mattress, and you'd feel safe, nestled between your two older siblings (though, as you constantly told Finn at the time, there was only an hour between the both of your ages). You would look at those photos, hear the crinkle of the letters, clutch Henry to your chest, and sleep.

Even earlier than that, before the war, when your eldest brothers didn't spend their whole nights drinking and doing god knows what else, you'd just wander into the first room that still had the light beaming out from under the door.

Sometimes, you'd find John, and he'd read to you, in a soft voice, and occasionally, if you were really upset, would make up stories, always with 'Princess Y/N' as the heroine. In those stories, you'd fight dragons and sea creatures and monsters that hid under the bed, and suddenly, you weren't all that scared of the dreams anymore.

Arthur would sing the old pub songs that your father had once sang, and the lack of tune was made up for by your brothers soft singing voice, the songs almost morphing into nursery rhymes to you. The songs were never scary when they came from Arthur's mouth.

Tommy was always best found near the fire downstairs, too tired and weary to make it to his room, and you'd curl up next to him, in your hand-me-down striped pyjamas, in a comfortable quiet, his arm, that was wrapped around you, enough to make you feel brave enough to fall asleep.

But now, you were older, no longer lulled to sleep by songs, or stories, or a warm arm, and besides, even if you were, you knew that if you ventured to the hallway, there would no longer be a crack of light under the worn wooden doors. Your brothers had moved out, become too consumed with money, women, drugs. One of them was gone forever.

They no longer cared for fairy tales or songs or warm arms. That was what you told yourself on nights such as these. You weren't sure if it was true or not.

*****

You stood outside the door in the hallway, cracked and dented from years of arguments and slamming doors, in your too big striped pyjamas that had once been John's, bare feet cold against the wooden floor. You wouldn't wake Polly tonight, wanting to let her have at least one night of full sleep. Besides, from the dim light under the crack of the door, your twin brother was in his room at night for the first time in months, ever since he started donning his crown of razor blades.

The hesitation in you wasn't something that you were used to, but you and Finn had grown apart a lot, over the past few months. You barely spoke, and when you did, it always ended in an argument. He was never around anymore, preferring to spend time with Bonnie and Michael and Isaiah, out drinking, or doing things at the office, running errands for Tommy. The most you saw him was at family meetings, though you barely even looked at each other anymore, your eyes firmly on the ground, eyelids heavy, anger boiling every second that went by that no one mentioned John or Esme or the children. They all preferred to forget what had happened, to forget them all. You couldn't. You wouldn't.

"Finn?" You whispered loudly through the crack in the door.

You waited a few moments, in silence, shivering, trying to blinking away tears. For a moment, you thought he was going to ignore you,but then the door swung open, and you looked up to see an exhausted looking Finn, still dressed half in his suit, hair rumpled with sleep. He blinked a few times, as if trying to wake himself up before he noticed your tears.

“Hey, what’s the matter?”

For once, he didn’t sound drunk, just exhausted, as he stepped back a little, inviting you into his room. The lamp was dull, illuminating only the desk, which was strewn with papers, full of scrawling, messy writing, almost like a child’s. Finn had never been the most articulate, and you’d been teaching him, but it had trailed off after the events of Christmas last year. His bed was the one pushed against the far wall, though there was now plenty of space to move it, with the absence of the three other beds of your older brothers that had once been there, and his clothes were strewn all over the floor. It filled you with a small sense of familiarity - this room was the way it had always been.

You hugged your arms around you, stepping into the room, taking the moment when your back was turned to wipe away the tears from your eyes.

“Nothing, I ... I just can’t sleep is all. Thought you’d be awake.” You turned back to him, a half smile on your face, though it faltered as you saw the disbelieving look he shot you.

“Come on, Y/N. I know when you’ve been crying.”

He held out his arms, and you shuffled into them, your cold arms wrapped tightly around him, face buried into his chest, teeth biting your lips to contain the sobs.

“I just... I can’t stop dreaming about him. About how it happened. It’s just stuck in my mind, over and over and over. I can’t-“

“Sh, I know, I know. It was just a bad dream, okay? Just a bad dream.” His hands stroked your hair, but his voice was half strangled, as if he was out of his depth. He was, really. You hadn’t talked to each other about John since the day it happened.

“He’s gone, Finn. Our brother, and no one seems to care-“

“We do care.”

You pulled back, red rimmed eyes looking at his half accusingly.

“You never speak about him. Tommy took down all of the photos. Locked up his house - I can’t even get in.”

“It’s easier that way, Y/N/N.”

“Everything’s fallen apart since he died.” You continued, hands gesturing almost wildly. “Arthur’s off his head, Tommy only cares about the business, Ada never comes to visit, and you -“

“Don’t start with this tonight-“ His voice was strained, panicked, never wanting to talk about John. You shouldn’t have pushed him, shouldn’t keep going. But you did.

“I didn’t know that when I lost one brother I’d lose my twin too.” You said quietly. “I thought it was us against the world, Finn.”

“We’re just growing up-“

You sniffed, wiping your nose on your sleeve, lip wobbling.

“Is that really it?” Your voice was uncertain, trembling. “Am I just not as fun as ‘Saiah, or Bonnie, or Michael?”

“You pushed me away first-“

“I didn’t-“

“You never come out of the house anymore, you never speak to me-“

“He was our brother! I’m fucking grieving, Finn.”

“And he’s gone!” He exclaimed, breaking your previously hushed conversation. “He’s gone.” His eyes began to tear up, and he turned away, never willing to let anyone see his emotions, not anymore.

“Finn-“ You spoke quietly, hand reaching out to his shoulder.

“I can’t talk about him, okay? I can’t.” His voice cracked.

“Okay, okay.” You softly said, heart breaking a little. Finn was always the strong one, but it was only now occurring to you that perhaps it was just a facade to shield you from what he was feeling.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. “I know I should have been there for you.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think that ... I just thought you’d forgotten.”

He sniffed, hand reaching to face, turning back around. His face was damp, and his eyes avoided yours a little, sitting down on his bed. He was a giant compared to you, but right now, he just looked like a little kid again, the one who’d always stood up for you, held your hand always. You’d both neglected each other lately.

“We haven’t been acting much like twins, lately, have we?” He spoke again.

You shrugged, sitting down next to him.

“It hurts too much to talk about him. And I know you want to, but-“

“It’s okay, Finn. One day, we’ll talk about him again. But for now ... I think we just need to talk to each other again.” You leant into his side, his arm wrapping around you.

He murmured an agreement, and you both sat in silence for a few moments.

For the first time in a few months, as your eyes flickered shut with tiredness, you were sure you wouldn’t have the nightmares.

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